


Rubicon

by dante0220



Series: Divides Crossed [10]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alliances, Bigotry & Prejudice, Conspiracy, Disception, Exile, F/M, Gen, Love, Political Strongarming, Rescue, Resigning one's post
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-18 08:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14208867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dante0220/pseuds/dante0220
Summary: Arthur hosts the Between Kingdoms Tournament to celebrate two marriages.  The affair's result causes an uproar.  Uther's old ally presses on Arthur to disqualify the runner up.  The knight is not only exiled but forced to surrender her goods.  Merlin shows kindness to her.  Meantime Mithian sends Tristan & Isolde to fetch Merlin for Nemeth's garden.  But is that all there is to it?  Meantime what's going on with Gawain?   And what's going on between Merlin and Gaius?  Will Merlin get out of Camelot this time?





	1. Morgana's Brooding Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Yes there is a gap between Mistletoe and this story. There will be flashbacks to bring everyone up to speed. 
> 
> Merlin and his cohorts (this version at least) belong to the BBC and Scyfy. Britomart is from Edmund Spenser’s Faerie Queene. Ywain and Malodius are from Chretien's Yvain Knight of the Lion. Josiane, Boeve and Edgar are adapted from Boeve de Haumtone.

Chapter 1 [Spring Equinox—Three Months Following “Mistletoe”]

Warm winds wafted from Tropics’ clime in that fortnight. Snows softened and evaporated in their wake. Bits of soft ground peered through widening holes in that icy patchwork. Sap ran up through the trees toward the branches; Purpose guiding it toward blossoms and fruit to come. A few hardy birds sang strongly into the brisk air; their summons beckoning companions back toward the north. 

Perhaps _Hades_ seemed suited to release _Persephone_ for her time with _Demeter_? One could hope.

After long time waiting, it seemed a new world finally would emerge……

 

****

 

[West Road Leading Into Whitgate]

A small party clopped along the path toward the capital. Despite the road’s soft mud and puddles, their horses’ hooves propelled them along at fair pace. While not as fast as Midsummer, the rate was a fair one nonetheless.

Morgana kept a stiff upper lip. Her eyes constantly scanned the woods. Experience had taught her to be ready for any ill news. Highwaymen could be anywhere. Falling branches from melting ice could block the road. Sudden storms remained a threat at that time of year. She bunched her cloak closely about herself. When she had her magic, she’d have cast a warming spell for herself. Now she’d do it for her companions as well.

That is if she still had it which she didn’t……

_I can’t even look out for my knights!_ She sighed. Since her ascension to Tintagel’s throne, Service had guided her efforts. Turning away from her uncle’s mindset, she hit the ground running. Given that Gorlois had done the last surveys a generation earlier, she meant to assess the kingdom’s current state. She’d instructed her courtiers to research the old laws favoring magic and the Old Religion. She opened her uncle’s horded treasury. While she wanted to wait for the aforementioned surveys to come back, she knew some things needed to be done for good will’s sake. New chain mail replaced the knights’ battered and old gear. Allowances would be made for weaponry. She’d noted the strengths and deficiencies in Tintagel’s defenses. New roads and improvements to old ones beckoned. Lonely stretches of back country proved too lucrative for brigands. Shrines to the goddess would have to be established once more.

Much remained to be done. Still, if her time in Camelot as ward, courtier and short-lived Queen had taught her anything, she couldn’t force her will on the crusty nobility. Rather Diplomacy and Skill would open them up willingly. She couldn’t simply cast a spell. She had to discern how to achieve her agenda and meet the entire kingdom’s ends in the process.

_Even if he does take it too far, Arthur may have a point._ She tapped her fingers on the saddle horn. She did admire somewhat how he promoted Equality’s favor for all. He treated his knights, no matter how high or low born, with the same respect and dignity. His expectations and comradery extended across the board. He even raised Gwen from low born chambermaid to Queen. His efforts endeared him to the people (as she’d found out on both of her reigns). The other rulers had given him a latitude not offered to many so early in their reigns…..

….emphasis on had….

She shook her head. If someone had heard of Arthur’s current issues, they might blame her. Not long before, they might have been right. She’d heard the whispers and Rumor’s ugly talk skulking around her court. She ground her teeth knowing that her situation depended on doing just the opposite. And she would. Beyond just Gorlois’ memory, her kingdom’s needs cried out to her. And then there was Merlin’s example.

_Merlin…._

She snorted. While Arthur’s usual right hand, good luck charm and overly loyal spaniel, Merlin had fallen from his former grace. He’d endured demotions. No longer was he the personal servant and physician’s assistant. Surprisingly he’d been confined to a former storage area. Even though Merlin performed his tasks (when allowed to) as he had before, his lot did not improve. Still she admired his diligence. In a manner she wouldn’t have thought possible in recent years, she actually pitied and started to respect his fortitude.

Other rulers, it seemed, agreed with that sentiment. The aforementioned regard had withered. As many of Uther’s contemporaries passed on, the new generation saw little reason to fear Camelot. While they appreciated Arthur’s military prowess, they knew he had to be prodded toward governance. Prejudice soured their views of Gwen. Ironically though, Arthur’s own stance against magic cost him at the negotiating table. His struggles against her and the Southrons damaged his standing. His treatment of Merlin especially after many of them knew of the latter’s role in restoring him to the throne appalled them. To top it all off, while many of them knew Merlin’s not-so-secret secret, the fact that Arthur remained blind to it and insisted that Merlin was a bumbling idiot and little more made him look ridiculous.

Arthur was proving to be his own worst enemy.

_Who’s the Idiot now, Arthur?_ She shook off Satisfaction’s glimmer. No she knew that despite her defeat, Camelot’s standing remained shaky. The inevitable fall from grace was under way. While not in danger of completely imploding, the knights’ exodus had picked up. Following Percival’s example, Leon and Elyan married into noble houses in Nuestria and Saxony respectively. Gawain, even if he was the only remaining member of the original round table, only took the First Knight position at Merlin’s request. Many of Arthur’s inner circle now were freshly minted from Youth’s crop; their faces barely survived their first encounter with the razor it seemed. Gaius’ new disciple, Simon de Longuemont, was every bit the idiot that Merlin pretended to be. Even the old man wouldn’t say more than two words to Merlin any longer.

_Gaius, you fool! That isn’t what Nimue meant! Mithian, whatever you have planned, you’d best move on it. Merlin languishes. Even Gawain would be better suited as my jester than as Arthur’s First Knight._ At hearing her thoughts mention Mithian, her eyes spied the tops of Whitgate’s spires over the trees. She turned to her retinue members. “Sir Stephen?”

A red headed stocky knight rode up to her side. He bowed to her. “My Queen?”

“How are you and the others?” She observed the building overcast moving in on Sol’s position overhead. A slight chill rustled her hair. “The weather changes.”

“Aye, my Lady.” He glanced back toward their companions, two knights and a blonde slender serving woman. “I say we press on. While a break would help our spirits, a soaking in whatever comes our way will not. Whitgate is but another hour’s ride. Perhaps we might find cover and a hot meal there?”

“Knowing King Rodor and Princess Mithian, I’d count on it. Very well. We press on for Whitgate.” She spurred her horse and picked up their pace.

The race between weather and destination, it seemed, was on…..


	2. Discussing Camelot's Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mithian deals with her frustrations over Camelot's issues (particularly where a certain Warlock's concerned). Talks first with Rodor and then with Morgana about growing concerns.

Chapter 2 [Throne Room—Whitgate Castle—Two Turns of the Hourglass Later]

Anxiety, Disagreement and Uncertainty charged the air in that august place. The day’s events reflected those tendencies. The morning’s council meeting elicited shouting and arguing. The proposed treaties with Tintagel, Mercia and Camelot raised eyebrows. The proposal to erase Uther’s measures against magic and the Old Religion only fired the old divides further. Despite Rodor’s and Mithian’s attempts to soothe Discord’s dominance, they managed only a stalemate in those regards. The afternoon’s judicial cases spilled over from the previous day’s session. Rodor did settle those cases as best as he could.

Still Trouble loomed on the horizon….

 

****

 

Mithian sipped from her goblet of water. A pronounced frown dominated her features. Gloom’s pall hung over her. Despite every attempt to guide the agenda and balance the discussion, it frayed and came apart at the seams. Dissension split their numbers much as it did their counterparts. Some wanted to remain with Uther’s state of affairs (even if said laws weren’t enforced). Others sided with King and Princess to lift the prohibitions and allow a peaceful co-existence.

On a positive note though, Rodor’s announcement about her engagement brought nods and pleasant congratulations. Even if they didn’t have final say, they did want to meet Merlin for themselves. Through such meetings, they’d finally dispense with the cloak and dagger proceedings surrounding the affair.

_I should be happy for that at least._ Recalling her own feelings toward Gwen (at first) and the opposition toward other such matches, she sighed. _I wonder what they will think of Merlin. They’ll hate that he’s a servant. They still fear and shove his father’s legacy to some cobwebbed corner. Neither Sir Balinor or Merlin deserve that. And what of Arthur? He will oppose us._ She sighed recalling Merlin’s deception from the previous fall. _Arthur thinks Merlin’s gazing at some servant girl? Honestly! I can’t believe the Prat was going to try and force Merlin to marry Britomart._ That thought elicited a rather loud and rude snort knowing her servant and best friend as well as she did. _There’s someone in Camelot all right even if the knight in question’s being difficult. At least Gawain paid attention at Solstice. What a tangled web Camelot weaves. What a bloody mess!_ She gulped loudly. Despite her attempt to cover her mouth, a loud belch echoed throughout the chamber. _That’s what I think of that!_ Her eyebrow raised. The saucy smirk spread across her face.

“Getting it out of your system, Daughter?”

She grimaced. He would have to hear that. She turned and offered him a curtsey. “Father, I was alone. At least I thought I was.”

He smiled. “I know. Still, despite such illusions, we are never truly alone. How many times have I told you that the walls have ears? That there are eyes everywhere? There are conventions.”

She frowned. Tradition sagged on her yet again. “As I’m painfully aware.”

He let that retort go. He knew well Frustration rather than Disrespect goaded it forth from her. “And yet it also provides you with a road forward? Doesn’t it?” He rubbed her shoulder.

“It should if certain people would let it happen.” She trembled. “I’m glad I could get Merlin out of that little cell for a few days at least.”

“Little cell? What?” He looked her in the eye. “Mithian, what are you talking about?”

She shook her head. “Something happened after he returned from here. Master Gaius took on another apprentice. Merlin had to find another place. Fortunately Queen Guinevere had a small storage area cleaned out so he wouldn’t have to sleep in the stable. After everything, Arthur still lets that happen! How, Father? Please explain it to me.” A tear streaked her cheek.

He embraced her. “It is purely spite, Mithian. No more, no less. And it’s gone on long enough.”

She stiffened. “Father, please! Don’t tell me that you’ve changed your mind. Please! I can’t…I…”

He smiled. “Quite the opposite. You haven’t been this happy since before your mother passed away. I see that sparkle in your eye. Your mood has picked up considerably. I told you that Merlin had to prove himself. He exceeded my expectations in that regard. I wish I had known about his lineage.” He took his handkerchief out. “This would long since have happened.” He gently blotted her tears dry. “The law is on our side. Sentiment, at least among the other rulers, favors us. Take heart, Mithian. It will not be long now.”

She exhaled. “Thank you for that. Still the next opportunity for a feast isn’t until Beltane. Merlin shouldn’t have to wait that long.”

“He won’t. The political situation is the pretext. Camelot has called three such gatherings. While they have produced some good results, they have left bitter tastes in our mouths. Arthur allows spectacles that should not see the inside of a court chamber. I saw what I needed to at Samhain. At least the Solstice celebration was a success,” he explained.

“That’s because Merlin was in charge of it.” Mithian smiled. Her eyes sparkled. Once again, _Memoria_ allowed her to see her Warlock’s efforts in decoration and organization. Her eyes teared up again as he and Gawain put the massive Festival tree in the Great Hall. She smiled at Merlin’s reaction to the second tree waiting in her chamber.

_…no their chamber…._

_“"I promised you a tree. Tonight you have it." She motioned toward the tree. "Our tree for our love…on this night."_

Her breath caught in her throat. A dreamy smile pulled her mouth back to where it should be.

“You make my point for me,” he affirmed. “Can I ask?”

She nodded. “Your gifts to the celebration overwhelmed him. Merlin couldn’t believe he was worthy of the second tree.”

“He would say that.” He shook his head. “When we were with him, I swore I could hear Sir Balinor. Merlin is his father’s son. I’m glad he enjoyed his gift. For his service and the joy he brings to you, it is a small price to pay.” He noticed the herald waiting at the door. “We shall continue this discussion.”

She knew when he was changing the subject. She nodded and stood at his side.

“Regius? What news?” Rodor queried.

The herald bowed. “Good morrow, Sire and Princess. Queen Morgana and her retinue have arrived. She awaits you outside. Might I see her in?”

“Please do. We would speak to her,” Rodor concurred. 

Mithian pondered this turn of events. “I wonder why she’d make the trip? It is a day’s ride between our castles.”

“We shall see.” He smoothed his robes. A deep breath composed him allowing the Mask of State to cover his face once more. 

Morgana strode into the chamber. Her gait remained even. Her face had a neutral expression. She nodded to them in regal fashion. “King Rodor, Princess Mithian, greetings. Thank you.”

“And greetings to you, Queen Morgana.” He offered her the same courtesy in return. “How was your ride? I apologize for the condition of the roads. This is not the best time to be traveling. Still, now that you are here, we can offer you hospitality.”

“Your servants, Britomart and Sarah, have done so. I thank them and you,” Morgana noted adding a smile. “If I might ask, perhaps we might speak at your convenience? It is my turn to apologize for dropping in uninvited. I have concerns.”

“Concerns?” Mithian interjected. Curiosity and Dread jabbed at her.

Seeing the Princess’ slight reaction, Morgana reassured her, “You haven’t done anything. Neither has a certain friend of ours if you gather my meaning? Still it concerns him.” She glanced around. “Might we have some privacy? I wish us to speak honestly. Still I don’t want to be overheard.”

“Absolutely. The council chamber will provide such a place.” Rodor clapped his hands.

Regius rushed forward. “Sire?”

“Please have a flagon of wine brought to the council chambers? Queen Morgana would like refreshment as we speak,” he instructed.

“Aye, Sire. At once.” Regius bowed again to the three royals. Then he hustled out of the room.

“Well then. Shall we?” He led the two women from the chamber. Three doors down the passage, he produced a key ring with three iron keys hanging from it. With a single motion, he unlocked the heavy oak door and pushed it open. “I believe this shall serve your needs?”

“As always when we discuss our affairs. Thank you.” Granted Morgana hated overdoing the gratitude. Still Rodor and Mithian did merit it. Among the current royals around Britannia, they afforded her hospitality and at least were willing to try at friendship. 

Two stewards walked in behind them. One set three goblets on the table and poured wine into them. The other set a platter of fresh red and green grapes for their consideration. They bowed and departed closing the door behind themselves.

“They consider our stomachs as well as our thirst, it seems,” he noted. Even if he didn’t request the grapes, Hunger nagged at him. “Please take your seats. Let’s refresh ourselves.” He waited for them to seat themselves. Then he took his. He raised his goblet. “To friendship.”

“To friendship!” the two women chorused and touched their goblets to his.

After a sealing draught from each of them, he cleared his throat. “So what are your concerns, Queen Morgana? While I am glad to hear it isn’t who I believe you speak of, I have to ask to whom are you referring to?”

Morgana sipped on her wine. “Arthur. What else?” She took a draught from her goblet. “Forgive me. I do not seek to draw you into a war between Tintagel and Camelot. Quite the opposite. I work to put my father’s policies back in place. My uncle left much to be desired as King. I have faith in my subjects but it will take time. Still Arthur will not negotiate with me.”

“He still bears you ill will from the invasion of Camelot. I might as well given what I went through during that engagement,” Mithian presumed. “Everyone remembers your anger. They wait to see if your current state is a permanent one. Forgive my bluntness, Queen Morgana, I only observe this.”

“I appreciate your honesty. I have approached Arthur. We have negotiated or tried to.” She frowned. “He insists on Uther’s ban on magic and the Old Religion. I have told him that he needs to lift our father’s repressive measures. I had enough of my kind being scorned, tortured and killed for doing our duty to the triple goddess. As long as we live in peace, we should co-exist.”

“A noble sentiment. Still Arthur will not listen even if he should. He is as much Uther’s child as you are,” he noted.

“Uther may be my birth father. Still he pushed Gorlois aside to be with my mother. His lust to have a son resulted in her death. Arthur’s loss drives his hate. Even if I have assured him that I will not invade Camelot, he will not accept that. I signed a sworn statement and attested to it on the goddess’ sacred texts. I don’t know how much more I can do,” Morgana declared. “He fortifies on his side of our border.”

He listened. Certainly he agreed with Mithian’s observations. Morgana’s past actions and motivations merited Caution and Suspicion. Still she’d paid the price for that. Now she was trying to do the right thing. Even if she may or may not have been trusted, her subjects deserved more consideration than that. “Perhaps we might speak on this further. I remember his indifference toward the events over Samhain.”

“Yes those.” She glanced at Mithian. “I would guess you have kept him apprised on what happened during your visits to Camelot?”

“I have indeed. Arthur tries to be a good statesman. Still he doesn’t think things through. His double standards hamper him. Many still remember Merlin’s…performance.” Mithian bowed her head. She frowned. “I was telling King Rodor of Merlin’s current situation.”

“Gaius takes Nimue’s order too far.” Morgana’s frown deepened. She rolled her eyes. 

“What order? What?” He saw Mithian stiffen. “Please tell us.”

Morgana exhaled. “Gaius opposes any marriage between Merlin and Princess Mithian, King Rodor. Apparently he saw them together.” She shrugged and took a sip. “Gaius threatened to tell Arthur about him and you, Princess. The goddess sent Nimue to stop that. She told him not to say anything. Gaius decided he could no longer be around Merlin if he couldn’t guide him.” She shook her head. “That imbecile, Simon, isn’t fit to work on a sick dog much less a member of Arthur’s court.” 

“And they don’t give Merlin his proper chance? Outrageous!” Mithian snapped. She took a couple of good sized gulps from her goblet.

“Calm yourself, Daughter.” He patted her hand and met her eyes with his own. Then he turned back to their guest. “Several of the rulers expressed their concerns at Samhain. I worry if they cannot sign accords with Camelot for the overall state of peace.”

“Given Meleagant’s threat, I’d be worried,” Morgana declared. “He’s waited for years to invade southward. What we saw at Samhain was only the first salvo from him. Queen Annis and I have signed a mutual defense accord.”

“Nemeth has one with her as well,” he told them. “We should be aware. The Amazons and Mercia have one as well. In addition, they and we have an agreement with King Bors. Camelot is isolated. Given that it still recovers, we should be cautious. Meleagant’s actions at Samhain were a test for us all. He wanted to see who would rush to attack and who would run away. Arthur was uncharacteristically reserved. I didn’t understand how he’d allow that behavior.”

“The knights’ defections leave him vulnerable. Arthur knows he cannot afford to provoke Meleagant. He clings to what he has left,” Morgana presumed. “Even that, Arthur kicks at like a dog. I wish to make him understand that. Given that I know his weaknesses, I tried to point them out.”

“He wouldn’t accept your advice. I wish I could say I was surprised.” He took a thoughtful draught of his own. “Perhaps if we sat down with you both? Perhaps we could broker a peace? Such a peace would be between Camelot and Tintagel. Still Nemeth does have an interest in that. We were just speaking of such a meeting before you came in.”

“Meeting?” Morgana bit into a grape. “Go on.”

“As you said, there’s a great deal to discuss. King Bors had sent word that he wanted to negotiate with King Arthur and you for such agreements. We should have a plan in place for Meleagant. Then we must talk about lifting the old laws and prohibitions. And finally, there’s our situation,” Rodor clarified. 

“Situation?” Morgana rubbed her chin.

“Yes.” Mithian bit into a grape herself. “Merlin.”

Morgana coughed. “You do realize my dear brother won’t let Merlin go without a fight. Isolating Arthur on magic, censuring him about his cowardice, siding with me on the border question and then taking Merlin too?” She leaned back in her chair. Anticipation sparkled in her eye. “This could practically sink Britannia on its own.”

“He knows what the law is!” Mithian declared.

“He knows. We all heard him renew his promise to help you in that regard. Still Arthur has….that infuriating double standard when it comes to Merlin. He’ll say he gave you Gedref to smooth over the rejection,” Morgana informed them. “So that’s why you want to do it here rather than there.” She considered the Princess anew. She nodded. 

“I want a fair hearing for Merlin. He’s proven himself. Father approves. We want to be together. We have support among the other rulers. What else is there?” Mithian insisted.

“Including Gwen.” Morgana admired the developing stratagem. In one sense, had she known what would have happened, she would’ve used it herself. Still she could see why the goddess chose to bring it about in the way she did. _It has to be real and believable. Arthur can’t deny it without undoing everything he stands for. He can’t question a match between Merlin and Mithian without challenging his own marriage. And here I thought Mithian was just a headstrong Daddy’s girl with a hunting complex. Interesting._

“Can we count on your support when it comes to Merlin? I know you two have bad blood between you,” he wondered.

“ _Had_ bad blood. He and I are working on being friends. I did intercede on his behalf. As long as he remembers where his duty is, I will support him. The triple goddess wishes for the marriage to take place. As I am her servant and your friend, I will do what I can on your behalf,” Morgana assured him.

“And you want to stick it to Arthur as well,” Mithian presumed.

“My dear brother needs to understand that he can’t run a kingdom while acting like one of the boys. Now can he?” Morgana replied; Disdain punctuated the question at the end. “Perhaps a bit of perspective?”

“I was planning on that. I’m leaving that as a surprise,” Rodor agreed.

_A surprise? Father, what are you up to?_ Mithian bit into another grape. Her mind spun as to possibilities.

And with that, plans for the impromptu summit went forward…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of makes you wonder what Rodor's got up his sleeve.... Next time we start to see a little of it. And we start to hear about the new crisis in Camelot....


	3. Arthur's Venting and Gwen's Reply

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur fumes over the current state of affairs. George bumbles through his service. Gwen argues with Arthur over several matters including Merlin. Tristan & Isolde "serve a summons" for Merlin to Nemeth for the Big Project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Josiane is from the _Boeve de Haumptone_. I've made a few slight alterations.

Chapter 3 [Four Days Later—Camelot]

_Sol_ streaked the sky with crimsons and golds on that morning. Warm breezes foretold of unseasonable heat to come later. A few birds nestled in the branches. The farmers pushed their plows across their fields. The blades carved furrows in the soft dirt in preparation for the coming seed. In town, the denizens started at their crafts for the day’s activities.

An unassuming start for Change’s agents to arrive…..

 

**** 

 

[Arthur’s Study]  
[A/N: Josiane is from the _Boeve de Haumtone_. I’ve made a few…cough, cough….changes.]

Arthur furrowed his brow. Frustration ate at him. He tapped his fingers across the desk. Being unable to sleep, he rose hours earlier. He’d reviewed and signed several reports. He’d scratched his mark on certain charters and placed the royal seal upon them. He’d already heard several reports from the outlying villages. He brooded over the stalled treaty negotiations with the surrounding kingdoms. _They understood for decades. Father never had these issues! What is their problem?_

And then there was The Defeat. He stewed over his recent tournament appearance. He couldn’t believe how Sloppiness and Ill Skill had corrupted his previous performance. After taking more effort than he should have, he lost to the worst possible adversary….

_…a Girl…._

…and, much as Lancelot and Gawain had been, an imposter and illegitimate candidate. Bad enough to have Britomart play knight as a favor to Rodor but to see her and this grievous pretender to the County of Hampton’s seat make a mockery of his tournament? It was the last thing he needed at that point.

_At least Edgar of Hampton’s place is secure. Justice was served._ He reached for his wine goblet and raised it for a draught.

The overflowing vessel sloshed and spat on his sleeve.

He ground his teeth. He never knew it’d be so hard to find good household help. He gulped down the goblet and set it hard on the desk. “GEORGE!!!”

George, ever the diligent attendant, hustled into the chamber. “Yes, Sire? I….” His foot slid on the spilled liquid. He lost traction. His feet flew up under him. He landed on the floor. 

Arthur closed his eyes. To whatever forces were out there, he implored them for Patience’s grace. “George, what are you doing?”

“Umm, I’m on the floor. I slid,” George responded. He raised an eyebrow while trying to follow the King’s meaning. Slowly he got up.

“Yes. And why did you slide like that?” Arthur asked him.

George blushed; Embarrassment streaking his cheeks with a distinct crimson shade. “Because I rushed in here to meet your needs, Sire?”

“Oh you did that all right. Maybe because…oh…YOU WEREN’T PAYING ATTENTION! Do you know anything about being a valet? You should since you’ve been muddling through it for six months now! And you know why you can’t keep things clean? You know why you can’t fill my goblet to the proper level?”

George frowned. Ingratitude stung his heart. Pride burned. Hadn’t he given his best? Was it his fault that Arthur acted like some ruffian more than a typical ruler? “I do my best, Sire. I just don’t want your cup running out.”

“THEN REFILL IT MORE OFTEN!” Arthur bellowed at him. He rolled his eyes. “Honestly! I thought Merlin could be an idiot. Well you….”

George bristled. “Sire, please don’t compare me to him. He doesn’t….”

“Doesn’t what? At least he knows how to fill my goblet! He could advise me on certain things. You…you polish silver. You fold laundry. You stand like some stiff board waiting to be nailed in place. Can you do anything?” Arthur carried on. 

Gwen rushed in. “What?” Seeing George bow his head and Arthur red faced, she immediately grasped the situation. “George, perhaps you might fetch some water from the well?” She motioned toward the door.

“Immediately, my Queen! I am sorry, Sire, for my affront!” George bowed to them and rushed out of the chamber.

“Honestly! That idiot! How did he….?” Arthur carried on.

She frowned. She closed the door. “Arthur, you’re just now noticing? George is an excellent chamber man. He is not a valet. Oh he tries but he isn’t that.”

“You think he’d figure out how to fill a wine goblet by now!” he snapped. He shook his head. “Horace didn’t even make it a month.”

“No he didn’t. Frankly I’m amazed anyone can, Arthur. I love you. Yet I can’t stand you like this either,” she pointed out. “You’re frustrated. We’re losing our knights. The treaties aren’t being renewed or new ones signed. And don’t get me started about what happened with Josiane. What are you thinking?”

“Gwen, you wouldn’t understand….” he dismissed.

“No I don’t. Princess Josiane deserves our respect. She has a royal claim from the distant east. Fine but it is a claim. She demonstrated her skill. She certainly should have earned your respect. To treat her as you have is unheard of!” she lectured.

“She supports a fraud. At least Sir Boeve died an appropriate death. So this ‘Princess’ thinks that time in Boeve’s bed entitles her to those colors?” he challenged.

“She certainly showed her worthiness this week, Arthur,” she disagreed. She realized however that he wouldn’t see the light on that point. “Have you noticed that Simon’s struggling to assist Gaius? And speaking of Gaius, he’s barely able to make it around the castle anymore. Something’s wrong with him too. Have you noticed any of this?”

“I have, Gwen. What can we do? I can’t just wave my hand, heal Gaius, get our knights and servants to do their jobs and run the kingdom too!” He paced around the chamber. “Something’s missing! Something….” 

She coughed and rolled her eyes.

“What?”

“You really are that dense? Arthur, it’s Merlin. You miss having him around,” she informed him. 

Arthur snorted. Denial and Indignity puffed his chest and blazed in his eyes. “I need his clumsiness like a hole in the head. Gwen….”

“It never bothered you before. What’s changed, Arthur? Why have you turned on him?” she demanded.

“Turned on him?” He laughed.

“I fail to see the humor. I was asking a serious question.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Merlin is suffering, Arthur. Gaius will barely speak to him. You have him doing menial tasks. When he does something truly great like the Solstice decorations, you make fun of him.”

He raised an eyebrow. “He acts like a girl! He likes pretty things. It isn’t….”

“It isn’t what? Manly? Is that the word you’re searching for, Arthur?” She sighed. “Funny. I don’t recall Merlin running away from a fight. He’d fight at your side. He’d advise you on things even when you didn’t care. He’d push and cajole you. He cares.” Skepticism showed in her eyes. “You’re still hung up about the Nazarene dress.”

“Gwen, don’t start.”

“Arthur, Merlin had to disguise you to get past the Southrons’ forces. That’s what he had to work with! At least he got you all through to Ealdor. Give him some credit!” She exhaled. 

“But he put me in a dress! Everyone saw! He made me look….” he ground his teeth.

“He made you look…ridiculous? Like a clown? No more so than you look right now,” she supposed. “What you did to him was wrong, Arthur. Gawain said it right. Perhaps make him wear the dress around the castle for a day. Assign him extra chores. Make him play your blocking dummy. I don’t know! I can tell you that he’s angry. He wants to leave.”

“His mind’s on that woman in Nemeth.” 

“We agree on that. It is. She treats him like a human being. You might learn something from that. The other rulers want to see that from you,” she continued.

He sniffed. “So you talk to other rulers about me behind my back? You do realize that’s treason. Right?”

“Arthur, it’s written on their faces as clearly as the writing on a parchment scroll. They’re outraged by that so-called “performance” from our coronation feast. Given that we haven’t had any new negotiations should tell you something. Percival, for instance, signed a defense pact. Still he won’t negotiate any further. He hasn’t ceded Ealdor as we discussed.” She exhaled. “Princess Mithian was appalled by Merlin’s situation.”

“I surprised she isn’t sponsoring him. We let him stay with her and be her lap dog for a week!” He rolled his eyes again. “I should’ve had someone watching him. That way they could tell me who that mystery woman is.”

“Oh she’s been here in the castle. You just haven’t noticed,” she informed him.

At that moment, a knocking came from the door.

“Oh now what?” He stalked toward the door and threw it open. Seeing the newest household member, he asked, “What is it, umm?”

“Sorry, Sire. I’m Philip. You hired me yesterday,” Philip reminded him. He bowed. “There are riders from Nemeth to see you. Sir Tristan and Lady Isolde.”

“Indeed?” Arthur bit his lip. “Interesting choice of riders. I wonder why Mithian didn’t come herself since she’s our ambassador and all that?”

“She might be tied up helping King Rodor with something. Besides we owe Tristan and Isolde our thanks for helping us in Ealdor. They are friends, Arthur,” she pointed out. She turned back to Philip. “Please show them in. Perhaps you might bring some wine and make sure the goblets are half full?”

“I will see to those tasks, my Queen.” Philip bowed again and left.

“Perhaps he will make a better servant. He at least seems to have a head on his shoulders. I don’t need Merlin’s bellyaching or being an idiot around me,” Arthur complimented before shifting to an insult at the end.

_Be stubborn. You’re going to cost us, Arthur, with your pride!_ Gwen collected her resolve. She managed to compose herself just as the visiting couple arrived at the door. “Well now! Sir Tristan and Lady Isolde! Welcome to Camelot!” She grinned. Her eyes sparkled. “You do look quite splendid in your armor and robes. I trust your trip was a good one?”

“The roads were as expected at this time of year, Queen Guinevere. Still we made good time. Thank you, Lady,” Tristan replied courteously. He bowed to her. His lips whispered Respect’s kiss onto the back of her hand. 

“At least we didn’t run into any challenges on the way, Tristan.” Isolde straightened her sur coat. “Princess Mithian sends her regrets.”

“Oh?” Arthur looked to the visitors. “Is everything all right?”

Isolde only betrayed the slightest of reactions. “She is well. She and King Rodor are planning a big undertaking. Perhaps you might make the journey?”

“Journey?” Gwen queried.

Tristan produced a sealed parchment roll. “King Rodor sends you his regards as well. He requests your company at Whitgate a fortnight from now.”

“Oh?” Gwen forced herself to keep a poker face. She anticipated that Nemeth dealt with the same issues which Camelot did. Still Dread shot a chill down her spine. She knew at least one real reason behind the invitation. _Rodor and Mithian want Merlin. I just pray Arthur doesn’t start a war in the process._

“He does?” Arthur broke the seal and unrolled the parchment. He reviewed the document. “I see. Strange that he wishes to host the event. We could have it here just as well.”

“King Rodor wishes to repay your hospitality, King Arthur,” Isolde informed him. “I believe he spoke of some mutual projects between Nemeth and Camelot. He can go into them further. He also requested Merlin’s assistance.”

“Did he now?” Arthur coughed. “Surely he has other capable people in his household?”

Gwen shook her head. “I’m sorry. What did he need assistance with?”

“The royal garden. When they visited for Samhain, the King admired the garden’s quality here. He wished for Merlin’s care and expertise. I’d rather see him help us fight or keep the household running myself. Merlin can do that.” Tristan looked around. He saw Philip come in with the wine service. “Odd.” He noticed Isolde shake her head at him. _What did I say?_

“I was just telling King Arthur that much, Sir Tristan,” Gwen agreed. 

Arthur cleared his throat. He recognized the lecture’s undertones within the reply. “Aye. It’s a pity though.”

“What is, King Arthur?” Tristan queried somehow keeping his voice even. The title grated on him especially given what was clearly going on there. Even someone like himself could feel the void left by Merlin’s absence. Moreover, he’d dealt with enough fellow smugglers and tradesmen to sense Arthur’s stewing issues which the latter attempted to conceal.

“Merlin seemed to lose focus. I couldn’t trust him with my household or even picking out clothes after Ealdor. Now could I?” Arthur supposed.

Isolde coughed. She glanced at Gwen out of the corner of her eye. She clearly discerned the unspoken apology in the Queen’s face. While a rebuke and a reminder of why the offending clothes had been needed and who was responsible for his and Gwen’s capture by the Southrons might be warranted, such a response was better delivered by Rodor himself. (That wasn’t counting the lost wagon load of cargo but that was another matter still better left unsaid at that moment in time.) Besides, as with Tristan, she’d seen what she needed to. “Then you would be content to lend Merlin’s services to King Rodor and Princess Mithian until the meeting? It would be seen as a sign of your confidence in him.” 

“Oh I know he likes such things. He wants to act like a girl, let him,” Arthur acknowledged. “He’s like a fifth wheel now. I think we have enough stable hands for the fortnight. I expect that his woman will be waiting for him as well?”

“Arthur, perhaps that might not have been wise,” Gwen interjected. Her eyes motioned toward Isolde.

Tristan narrowed his eyes. He didn’t quite follow Arthur’s gibe.

Isolde, on the other hand, had been advised by Mithian on that front. She nodded and played along (even if she wanted to spit in the process), “I know what he meant, Queen Guinevere. The King has seen me in battle. As with Britomart and the Amazons, I can hold my own in battle even as I am a woman. I keep my beloved Tristan’s back as he does mine. I am his equal. He is mine.”

“Until the gates of Hell themselves open and after that, I will be with you,” Tristan vowed to Isolde in affirmation. He squeezed her hand and smiled.

“We should all seek to follow your example, Isolde. Princess Mithian and King Rodor, I’m sure, will arrange for Merlin to spend time with his love. I hope he can refresh his mind and spirits there. Perhaps King Arthur and I might meet with the young woman’s overlord and King Rodor to finalize things?” Gwen declared.

Tristan fought back the urge to roll his eyes. He thought they were on state business not to discuss Merlin’s love life. 

“The sooner the better. Merlin’s carrying on and day dreaming takes away from his work. Maybe with that woman, he can find his purpose again? Perhaps she might work out here as well?” Arthur agreed. 

Isolde shrugged. “That is for King Rodor and you to decide, King Arthur. We just have the message for you.” 

“Then shall we have something? If you’d like, we can prepare some food for your journey,” Gwen offered.

“That would be most kind. Thank you,” Tristan accepted. He smiled. “Perhaps we might get Merlin and meet you here? That way we can be on our way. It is a long ride.”

“That would be fine,” Gwen accepted. She couldn’t believe Arthur’s uncharacteristic lack of interest or willingness to offer a meal for Merlin on his departure. Then again he thinks it’s only for a fortnight. He doesn’t know that it could be for good. “I’ll meet you at Merlin’s room then.”

“We’ll be right there,” Isolde affirmed. 

With another bow to the two host royals, the two messengers turned and left quickly.

“All of that for a little gardening?” Arthur groused. “Surely Tristan and Isolde have better things to do? Rodor’s acting as if there’s some big problem to be solved. We all have our problems.”

“We do, Arthur. Still everyone should work together on other situations. He wants our input. Who knows? Maybe we can help them to forge a peace? Maybe they can help us?” Gwen supposed.

He frowned. “If they can get Merlin’s head out of his arse then that would be help enough. I’d pay just about anything to see that!” 

She didn’t reply. Rather she kept her own sadness for how Arthur’s attitude had rotted away any chance to salvage the bond between Merlin and him. “I’ll leave you to those last documents, Arthur. Perhaps you might wish to meet us by the stairs in an hour?”

“Thank you, Gwen, for understanding. I’ll be there,” Arthur promised.

“I’ll see you there.” She nodded grimly to him. Then she left as well lest she allow Discontent to reveal the underlying plot behind the events in question. 

Tragedy, it seemed, assumed the glutton’s role on that morning…..


	4. Enter Josiane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Princess Josiane awakens. As she deals with the aftermath of the previous week, she discovers kindness. Then she runs into Merlin. They speak. Tristan and Isolde summon Merlin to Whitgate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case I didn't get this in the intro notes, Whisper, Boeve and Edgar are from the _Boeve de Haumptone_. (As with _Malodius_ though, I named Whisper. :) )

Chapter 4 [Stables]

_Sol_ streamed through the gaps in the stables’ wooden walls. Day warmed the air. For most people, this point signaled a transition toward work and survival. Trades could see a pounding at metal on forges. Markets could ring with merchants’ bidding and haggling on prices. Roads and cobbled paths bore their worn wheeled burdens rumbling up and down their lengths in and out of the city.

Fortune would give most another such day like this. Alas some were pushed off of their rightful place on the wheel’s top…..

 

****

 

In the place’s farthest corner, the object of Arthur and Gwen’s debate stirred from an uneasy rest. Josiane stretched her arms guardedly. Exhaustion still weighed down on her limbs and body. Salty trails dried themselves on her cheeks. Hunger growled loudly in her stomach. Thirst burned in her mouth and throat. 

Indignation burned in her heart. She’d competed fairly by Melee’s sensibilities. Her weapons and gear had met the tournament’s standards. Whisper, her horse, didn’t kick or harm a fellow rider. She’d held back holding to Chivalry’s accountability toward Male Ego….

…much as her Beloved Knight had taught her years before….

Loneliness numbed her at that particular point. That perhaps was a mixed blessing. It wiped away _Memoria’s_ retelling of the previous day’s events….

Still it brought sobs to her already wracked consciousness. It brought Pain and Despair to her.

_You said Arthur was supposed to be this fair and wonderful Prince! Oh, my Boeve, how disappointed you’d be! What happened to that true and just ruler? Where is this Camelot of which all can find justice no matter rank or position? It certainly isn’t here!_ She bit back her spleen. Her nose had already clogged from the dank stench. _That Prat could certainly get more people to clean this place! Not that it’s going to matter. He’s certainly shown such courtesy toward me._ She sighed. _Perhaps I’ll head toward that kingdom west of here. What did the fire hair, Britomart, call it? Ah! Nemeth. The knight, Sir Ywain, and she seemed fair enough. Too bad that dark haired man from the tavern wasn’t there. If I had money to my name, I’d buy him a meal for his kindness._ She shook her head. She peered down at her garb.

In place of the fine chain mail, helmet and scimitar from her father’s long lost armory in Alexandria, a gown of coarse cloth mocked her. A frayed rope cinched it at the waist. She had little else and….

Her hand ran along the hay. It touched something. Her fingertips felt something familiar. They grabbed it.

She saw a sizeable chunk of bread, a small bunch of grapes and a piece of cheese. Her eyes narrowed. “This wasn’t here last night! Who would?” She looked around that part of the stable.

Nobody offered themselves for gratitude or any comment for that matter.

She looked toward the ceiling. “Thank you then for the blessing. Truly a little glimmer can light a dark path,” she prayed. Then she ate her unexpected bounty with Dignity’s care rather than Animal’s savagery. She savored each bite. She could almost feel her anonymous benefactor’s kindness imbued in each mouthful. “Even in a place as dank as this, there are good souls who remain.”

Then a whinny came from across the stable. It was a particular tone she knew well.

“Whisper?” Her ears perked. Instinct and Paranoia snapped her mind back to full alert. She grabbed a wooden slab and slipped toward the sound.

Nobody was going to hassle her friend. That was for sure…..

 

****

 

Merlin wiped his brow with a worn cloth rag. Anticipation had warned of the brewing mess awaiting him in the stables on that morning. He’d noted two horses in every stall instead of the usual one. Overflowing numbers of travelers spilled into every corner of the stable from the inns in Camelot. Consequently he hadn’t been able to walk around in there much less clear away hay, manure or anything else. He glanced around. He wished that he could have cleared the hay with a spell. Still he knew better given that it would only take a heartbeat for someone to see him.

Gaius’ catching Mithian and him in the Great Hall had certainly reminded him of that. He wouldn’t take another risk needing the goddess’ intervention if he could help it.

_This could take all day. Still I can’t be dumb about it. I’m so close. I can’t blow it now!_ he lectured himself.

_Caution is an admirable trait, my Warlock,_ Mithian concurred. _Good Morning!_

Her greeting jingled like bells in his ears. Its peals warmed his heart. He exhaled an easy breath. _Good morning, Mithian. Hope you’re having a better day than I am. Look at all of this! Love a tournament. What a load of bollocks!_ She grimaced and flexed his arm. He pulled up his tunic’s sleeve. He saw a sizable bruise purpling his forearm.

_Now what did you do? Merlin, don’t tell me you got into a fight!_ she chastised.

_What was I supposed to do? There was a young woman who was alone in the Rising Sun. A mob jumped her. They were going to hurt her or worse. Arthur caved into some of Uther’s cronies. It was some guy named Edgar of Hampton._ After she came in second, the knights detained her, he recounted.

_Ywain and Galahad told me something about that. They offered to speak up for her. Sir Leon had assured them that it would be quickly dismissed. It wasn’t?_ she recalled.

_Just the opposite. That Edgar guy’s goons pressed Arthur. Gawain tried to speak for her. Britomart went off! You’d been so proud of her. She stood her ground for the Princess. I…._ he continued.

_Princess? She was a Princess?_ Mithian queried in surprise.

_She’s supposedly an exiled Princess from some kingdom on the Roman Sea. There was some big spat between this Edgar and her. We all tried to speak up for her. It was so weird. Arthur wouldn’t listen to reason. He told Britomart to mind her own business. He called me an idiot and dismissed me. Gwen argued. I’ve never seen her so angry with him. Gwen convinced him to do the minimum that way. So he exiled Josiane. But it didn’t end there,_ he continued.

_It didn’t? What else did he do? Merlin, is she to be executed?_ she pressed.

_Those Hampton guys pushed for it. Arthur didn’t give them that. But…._ He bit his lip. Regret and Anger dampened and fired his spirits simultaneously.

_But what? Merlin, what did Arthur do? Sirs Ywain and Galahad told me the matter was settled. What did Arthur do?_ she insisted.

_He stripped her of just about everything she had. A really great set of chain mail, her fancy sword, this really nice floor rug as well as clothes, money and jewels all went to those guys. Britomart yelled at them. She offered to buy the stuff back,_ he told her. 

_I’d expect her to do so. Still it shouldn't be necessary. Father was counting on a part of that for our treasury. The other part she was going to use to buy her freedom._ She sighed. 

_You mean to have a dowry to attract a certain knight with? That sounds like her. Anyhow Britomart put the gold out there twice. Once in that chamber. Once when she and Gawain went to dinner with Arthur and Gwen. Both times she was told to get lost._ He stopped for a couple of heartbeats. _Gwen insisted that I serve them. Britomart deserved as much on her dream night._

_I know you’d do as much for her. Thank you, my Prince. So this Josiane? What else happened? What about the tavern fight?_ she pushed. _That bruise had better be all you got from it, Merlin. I mean that._

_It was. She went in there in her rags. She had just enough to get some bread and soup. She paid. Before she could get her food, Williams and his bullies started in on her. She held her own with some discreet assistance from a certain source,_ he indicated.

_She better not have seen you! MERLIN!_ she lectured.

_It’s all right! I kept my face hidden when I cast the spells. It was so crazy in there that nobody could’ve seen me. I was able to help her back here. I checked on her this morning. She was still asleep when I got here. I created the last meal plate again like I did for you when we first met. She won’t go hungry. I’m about to comb her horse out and make sure he’s set,_ he assured her.

_I appreciate that. I can’t believe Arthur would cave to anyone—even to those that Uther owed a great deal to. I really need to speak with Gwen when I see her next. There’s something wrong with Arthur. We need to figure it out. Meantime keep your chin up. Do a great job. I love you,_ she concluded.

_And I love you, Mithian. Just smile for me,_ he wished.

_When I think of you,_ she concluded before signing off.

He scratched his head. _What is going on? Mithian’s got a point. Why is Arthur acting like this?_ He considered Whisper who glanced at him. The pure white horse stiffened not sure of what his next action would be. “Hi! How about a nice combing out? I know your mistress and you are getting ready to leave. She was treated badly. Let me make it up a little more by treating you well?” He picked up a stiff brush. “I’ll be gentle. I promise.” He patted Whisper’s flank. Then he slowly combed the horse’s mane and tail out. Gently as possible, he guided the brush through the smooth hair allowing the bristles to whistle through the strands with minimal pulling and pain. “There all done. You look great for the ride home.”

The stallion whinnied at him.

“You’re welcome. Have something else for you too.” Merlin’s eyes glinted. He flexed his hand allowing two carrots to seemingly slide out of his tunic’s sleeve. “Figured you’d like a treat.” He held the vegetables in front of the stallion’s snout.

The horse sniffed the carrots. Then he carefully munched his way up their lengths stopping short of the kindly Warlock’s fingers. As if sensing his benefactor’s sadness, he rubbed his nose gently along Merlin’s arm.

“It’s no big deal. You’re so patient and good spirited in spite of everything. Sorry I couldn’t be here this weekend. Had a lot to do for the tournament. I can make sure you have a good treat on your way out though.” Merlin grinned. The gesture picked his spirits up. He rubbed the horse’s flank. 

Perhaps prompted by the conversation, his mind flashed back over the previous week.

The Between-Realms Tournament had played itself out for the previous four days. Knights paraded themselves in the melees during the days and at the banquet table for the nights. Their horses had crowded the stables making any cleaning activities impossible. Their retinues and hangers-on filled every remaining room, corner, nook, cranny and slot available.

Arthur watched the events from his usual dual role. For most of the tournament, he sat in his royal place alongside Gwen and a few of the more recently arrived female courtiers. When his bouts came up, he paraded himself out there to take on that day’s Designated Challenger. Even if he accounted fairly well for himself, his motions seemed a bit off. His sword lacked the fluid motion. Even the blade on blade crossings seemed more like thuds than true metallic impacts. He dispatched Sir Rathbourne of Saxony and Sir Wyglif of Lothia on the first day. The second day witnessed his struggles to best Sir Ricard of Gaul and the barest of victories against Ywain in the next round. And then came the final round, everyone at the court still buzzed about.

Every tournament in recent memory had unknowns seeking to make their name. Merlin recalled how Lancelot and Gawain had made initial impressions through their sheer skill. He also remembered the magically-enhanced snake shields, shape shifting crystals and his protective counter maneuvers to covertly preserve his liege’s safety. This one had two such mystery warriors. Due to negotiated agreement with Arthur, they were able to maintain their disguises through the entire event. Both fought with a unique blend of skill and ferocity. One lacked a sur coat and bore only a plain shield preferring to go without affiliation of court or colors of any kind. The other wore the orange sur coat affiliated with the house of Hampton and bore a matching shield. A unique curved blade swished through the air cracking and breaking its counterparts in its wake. 

Imagine the stir when “Sir Hampton,” as the court called that mystery man, defeated Arthur with seemingly little effort. He helped the King back to his feet demonstrating his fealty to Chivalry’s service. Without a word, he escorted Arthur back to the royal pavilion only seeking a handshake and to bow before his host. Then he headed back to meet his glinting plain adversary for the finals.

For what seemed like hours, “Sir Plain” and “Sir Hampton” clashed. Each moved skillfully. Both blades clanged and scraped against each other. Green eyes met dark olive ones through their respective helmet slits. Neither would back down. While taking care not to injure the other, each pressed the advantage at certain points. Yet at the end, Hampton inexplicably feinted wide. Plain claimed the victory.

That’s when the real furor started. For when the two warriors unmasked, Plain was actually Britomart and Hampton was a dark skinned Egyptian woman with raven black hair billowing in the breeze. Each embraced the other in Friendship’s bond. Shock and Dismay hung heavily in the air casting a pall over the event and well-fought melee. 

And that was before Britomart claimed her prizes. She took the winner’s purse. Then she insisted on a kiss and a chaste night with Gawain.

_Wish Gawain would get it. Britomart is smart, loyal and hard working. She’s a warrior, healer and a maid too. After this week, she deserves more respect than she got._ Merlin shook his head. “Respect is in rare supply around here anymore.”

“I agree.”

Merlin turned to find ‘Sir Hampton’ herself watching him. “Milady.” He bowed to her. “Forgive me. I was tending to your horse.” Lament weighed down on him. He sulked at her squalid state of affairs. “I like to make sure everything’s tended to.”

“Tending would mean a quick yanking and maybe splashing for most of these louts, Merlin.” She smiled. Respect and Gratitude sparkled in her eye. “Oh yes. I’ve seen you out work most of the other servants around the palace. Sir Ywain and Britomart spoke highly of you. They respect you and well they should. I owe you for last night.”

He shrugged. “At least I managed to guide you back here. Beyond that we were both fortunate to get out of there with our heads intact.”

She grimaced. “I was fortunate to survive that cowardly ambush. “I cannot believe a whole tavern turned against me like that. I only wanted some capon. After Arthur bowed to that thief, Edgar of Hampton, I lost my colors, my armor, my scimitar, possessions and clothes. I am bereft of home and hearth. Best to blend in and not make myself a further target, I imagine.” 

“And yet I’m surprised he didn’t offer you anything for the road,” he presumed.

“He banished me, Merlin. It was only because of Queen Guinevere’s intervention that I kept Whisper!” Her eyes narrowed. “And to slander Sir Boeve, the rightful Count, like that? He was no traitor!” She smacked a beam.

“I heard about that. I’m sorry, Josiane.” He saw her eyes narrow at him. “I was at your hearing yesterday. Remember?”

She nodded. “Arthur called you an idiot. Why? Because you work with your hands and are kind hearted? He’s the fool not you! Well thanks to him, I have until noon to leave the city. I do not know where I’ll go. Merlin, I…”she explained. Indignation’s tear streaked her cheek. “At least you showed greater worth and kindness to me.”

“Princess, then you deserve another bow.” He bowed to her again.

“Merlin, I said stop. Your nobility comes from the heart. Besides you more than accounted for yourself last night.” She patted Whisper’s flank.

He frowned while recalling the brawl in the Rising Sun. “I just pushed some folks apart. Had to try and keep peace.”

“You certainly did that. You kept that lout, Williams, off of me. Then imagine! You turn your head away. That beam suddenly snapping up and distracting him…mmm…quite fortunate indeed.” She picked up the discarded carrot green on the hay. “Kind of like these carrots. Not the time of year for these especially as fresh as they are.” She looked around to make sure nobody else was in earshot. She leaned close to him. “I’ve known sorcerers, Merlin. It’s all right. You have my secrecy.” 

He stared at her. He thought he’d been careful. It seemed now that he’d been careless after all. _Who else would have noticed? I can’t even help someone?_ “I appreciate your secrecy.”

“It is what friends do for each other,” she assured him. “Wouldn’t you say, Whisper?”

Whisper grunted his accord. His nose rubbed up against Merlin’s arm. 

“It seems you are outvoted, Merlin. When I pray next, I will give thanks for your intervention and kindness. Service and Duty are their own rewards,” she informed him.

He nodded. “Quite the shame, Princess.” He bowed again. Seeing her eyebrow raise, he replied, “I can honor a friend. Keep another secret and answer a question?”

“Of course,” she affirmed.

“Like grapes and cheese?” he presumed.

“Like…I.” Somehow she kept herself from drawing attention. She smiled. Gratitude watered in her eyes. “That was you?”

“I came by this morning to start in. Whisper and you were here by yourselves. Sorry but I heard your stomach rumbling. So I…made you breakfast. I don’t care about the sentence. You have until noon. I can help you until then,” he explained. 

She laughed; a pleasant sound akin to the ringing of bells truly. “In that case, Master Merlin, I offer you my thanks. May my god protect you always.” She saw Tristan and Isolde approaching. “Two emerald clad knights now? I thought Camelot’s warriors wore crimson.”

“They do. They’re friends as well,” Merlin assured her. He grinned. “Tristan! Isolde! This is a surprise! You just missed Ywain, Britomart and _Malodius_. Why weren’t you here for the tournament?”

“Some have to stand watch during the games. We gave the others a chance to compete. That is if such is their wish. Britomart’s still here some place,” Tristan explained. He looked Josiane over. “A peasant with a horse?”

“Tristan.” Isolde shook him off. “I am Lady Isolde of Nemeth. He is Sir Tristan. And who might you be?”

“I am Princess Josiane…exiled Princess actually. I had my colors, weapon, possessions and armor taken by so-called justice. I am exiled and am to leave the city. It is good to meet you, Lady Isolde. Do you know the maid, Britomart? She is one of your castellans,” Josiane introduced herself and clasped hands with her.

“We do. Much like a certain other servant turned stable boy we all know,” Tristan acknowledged. He offered his hand. “Princess, any friend of Merlin’s is a friend of ours.”

“Then I am truly blessed with a world of friends, Sir Tristan. Merlin has spent a night and a day setting a wondrous example for others.” She clasped Tristan’s arm. Then she did the same for Isolde. “Thank you. I should leave though. I do not want to incur King Arthur’s wrath.”

Merlin shook his head. Wrath? This is almost like what Uther would’ve done! “Wish that there’s something else we can do. Maybe I can offer you a place for tonight, Princess? My bed isn’t much. Still I can sleep here and watch Whisper?”

“Merlin, please! I can’t take any more from you. If you shelter me, there’ll be trouble!” Josiane protested. “Whisper and I will leave now. The least I can do is keep you from danger, my Friend.”

Tristan and Isolde exchanged glances. She smiled. He nodded.

“Perhaps you might wait a while longer then?” Isolde supposed. “We will be leaving within the hour. There’s always room for one more companion.”

“They’re good folks, Princess. King Rodor is a fair king. He’ll help you. If I can ask something?” Merlin assured her. His heart trembled in mid beat. Lament weighed on his shoulders. He sucked in a heavy breath.

“You may of course, Merlin.” Josiane noted his expression. “What is it that weighs so heavily upon you?”

“If they let you stay in Whitgate….” Merlin hesitated. “Watch over Princess Mithian. She will be your friend without hesitation. I…” He blushed. “She’s very kind and….”

Josiane smiled. “I will if Opportunity and Hospitality so allow me. Britomart said as much of her. I will look forward to meeting this Princess. I will bear your regards, Merlin. Forgive me but I do not wish to keep our friends waiting.”

“You aren’t. Merlin is…as long as he keeps shoveling that blasted hay,” Tristan informed her. He grabbed the pitchfork away from the Warlock. 

“Tristan, what? Arthur wants this done. I….” Merlin argued. He tried to reach for the pitchfork.

“Some other lackey of his can deal with it,” Tristan responded. “Besides when Isolde was speaking to Josiane, she wasn’t done.”

“What?” Merlin scrunched his eyes. Confusion muddled his mind. He tried to ascertain his friends’ meaning. He looked across the stable. There he saw three horses waiting. “Are those your horses?”

“They are indeed. That white one in the middle... It would be a waste for her to head back without a rider,” Isolde agreed. She smiled. Her eyes twinkled. “King Rodor requests your assistance, Merlin. Gwen agreed.”

Merlin stared numbly at them. “You mean I can come to Whitgate with you?”

“That’s what she just said, Merlin.” Tristan snorted good-naturedly. “Being around Arthur’s muddled your brain.”

“Tristan.” Isolde chided although with a smirk and sparkle in her eyes. “Aye, Merlin. It is time to tend your garden there, I believe.”

“My garden? You said project. I’m happy to help Princess Mithian. I….” Merlin’s eyes went wide. _Mithian?_

_Merlin, what’s wrong? What’s going on? Did something else just come up?_ Mithian demanded over the Link.

_Nay. We’re all right. Mithian, Tristan and Isolde are here. They’re saying that King Rodor wants my help. They referred to the palace garden as “my garden”. I don’t understand,_ Merlin told her.

_This will be your garden. Merlin, you know how we’ve waited? Today that’s over. My Prince, Windchaser awaits you. As do I,_ Mithian confirmed. 

_Over? What do you mean it’s over?_ Merlin asked. His mind spun. Incredulity shut his mind down in that heartbeat.

_I mean it’s over. If Tristan and Isolde are there, they just brought Father’s request to Arthur and Guinevere. You are to accompany them back here._ Mithian took a deep breath. _Father prepares. He calls for a meeting in a fortnight’s time. We will demand your freedom, Merlin. I will not allow you to remain in this state._

_And Arthur’s allowing me to leave? I can’t believe it,_ Merlin doubted.

_I am employing a bit of your own technique, my Warlock. Let Arthur think you’re mooning over one of my servant girls. I can’t wait until he finds out,_ Mithian told him.

Merlin sighed. He could feel her smirk even at that point. _Yeah I’d better get on that. Thanks._

_You’re welcome. I love you,_ Mithian concluded.

_I love you._ Merlin took a breath. He could see the others looking at him. “Sorry. Needed to process this. Come on!” He ran toward the castle. His feet sprinted so fast that they barely touched the stones underfoot.

“Wait! Where?” Josiane stared at the sprinting Warlock. “He’s deep in thought. Then he jumps up and runs away like that? Who’s going to do this?” She motioned toward the still-dirty manure stable.

“Merlin’s got other things to do now, Josiane,” Isolde informed her. “He’s riding back with us.”

“You should look at him go! It finally got through to him. Didn’t it?” Tristan marveled. “Maybe we should make sure Pendragon doesn’t try anything else?”

“I would agree with that,” Josiane interjected. “If you’d allow me?” She untied Whisper’s reins and led her over to the others.

“We’d be delighted. Follow us,” Isolde invited beckoning her to follow them. They hustled off in pursuit of Merlin.

And so went new friendships to counter the rash ship of state….


	5. Britomart Makes her Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Hampton goon squad tries to cart the ill-gotten goods away, Britomart makes her final offer to them. They refuse (of course). They threaten her. Gawain gets involved. Mayhem breaks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we get points of view from the Hampton goons, Britomart and Gawain. Funny what happens when minds can't meet....

Chapter 5  
[Castle—Hampton Guest Quarters]

On the far corner of the castle’s guest chambers, six rather large men leered out the windows at the women walking below. Beady eyes sized up potential targets. Some they might mug on the way out of town. If they ran into a beautiful peasant girl or wood trash, the slavers along the coast would make it worth Consideration’s investment in her. Either way Pride felt abandoned; their egos bruised by their losses in the tournament to the Pretenders….

…the two fraud wenches masquerading as knights in the melee….

After Josiane defeated them, the leader, a knight with rouge colored clothes, rode back to Southampton overnight. He’d informed Count Edgar of their situation.

Predictably Edgar threw a fit. He had a complaint drawn up by his chancellor. Then he sent it back with Rouge to Camelot. He wanted the possessions and the so-called Princess for his own. He’d teach his brother, Boeve, a lesson. If not the man then he’d take it out on his ‘countess’/mistress. Her possessions had value. Some he’d sell. Others he’d use for his own devices.

Rouge looked at the carpet and the curved blade. He knew Edgar wanted them. For the life of him though, he couldn’t understand the reason. “Lot of garbage that is. Burn it already.”

“Boss wants it,” another knight with Mediterranean features and dark skin disagreed. “Give it to him. He’ll deal with it. Maybe he’ll let us sell the ‘Princess’ to the slavers?”

“Thanks to Pendragon, we have to wait. She has to go through the woods. We’ll take her there,” Rouge proposed. “Help me with her bloody stuff. I hope the Count knows what he’s doing.” He grabbed some things and started toward the door.

 

****

 

[Gawain’s Chamber]

A floor beneath the royal apartments, a certain chamber remained dark. In an uncharacteristic move, a wool blanket hung over the window. No candlelight flickered in that place. Not a sound echoed. Nothing seemed to move.

Then an obnoxious belch shattered that particular illusion.

Gawain blinked back Hangover’s latest siege on his brain. His lip curled. His eyes stared into the inky blackness overhead. Conscience ached however. Loyalty frayed. Betrayal burned at his heart. Disgust burned at his craw. Disbelief numbed his brain at that point perhaps a good and a bad thing at the same time.

That symphony refused to leave him alone. Its dirge bugged him, bugged him some more and even more after that. 

Tolerance had finally reached its breaking point. He’d dealt with issues over the previous year. He’d endured Camelot’s stifling rules and traditions. Leon and he did not get along in the best way. He’d watched as Merlin was passed over for a knighthood. He’d helped along with Merlin and Percival to get Arthur out of Camelot. He wore that stupid dress. He’d witnessed Merlin using magic. He kept Merlin’s secret romance with Mithian under cover (although it seemed that everyone knew and looked the other way…well almost everyone…no accounting for a certain Camelot “Princess”). He’d watched as Merlin endured humiliation and then demotion to crap duty. He’d endured Meleagant’s taunts and insults as related to his family. He had to deal with Britomart kissing and commandeering him after the melee. Even after all of that, he could somewhat deal with things.

The previous night blew that notion completely out of the water. For once, even his glib tongue was stuck dumb at Arthur’s latest two brain farts. Indignation erupted like Vesuvius swamping Pompeii in its ancient flows. The world turned upside down.

He’d endured the dinner with Arthur, Gwen and Britomart. Gwen, as always, talked with everyone pleasantly. Britomart (for once as far as he was concerned) didn’t have the last word. Furthermore he found himself actually relaxing and enjoying her companionship. Much as during the Solstice festival, he found himself drifting toward her. He felt complete around her for some totally bizarre and unfathomable reason. Still Arthur had a cloud over his head and a boot in his mouth for the entire meal. He managed perhaps three sentences for Britomart the whole time. Then the kid, Sir Marcus, rushed in, whispered something in Arthur’s ear and they both took off. That led to Princess Josiane’s humiliation and exile at the hands of those Hampton buggers. _Talk about taking the clothes off of someone’s back…and everything else for that matter…._

And that led to the fight at the Rising Sun.

_Arthur exiled her without hearing her side of it? Really?_ Gawain tapped his fingers on the bed frame. _Hell he could’ve accepted Brit’s offer to buy it back! She earned that gold and she just turns around to help a complete stranger? Wow._ His heart skipped a beat at that. _Don’t go all mushy now. Her mouth will drive me nuts. She wants to program me into a little ‘Yes Dear’ type like what Percy is and Merlin’s becoming. Too bad Arthur isn’t more like that!_ He sat up hanging his legs gingerly over the side of the bed. “Bloody…I’ve got to stop letting them serve me that grog. The dark ale. That stuff’s okay.”

A loud crash echoed to his ears even through the thick oak door.

“What now?” He rolled his eyes. Somehow in the dark, he found his gear where he’d left it on the floor. (More likely, he stepped on it but who’s counting at that point?) He pulled on his chain mail. Then he grabbed his sword. 

“I WANT TO BUY HER POSSESSIONS! THEY’RE NOT YOURS! SHE WAS BANISHED NOT A TRAITOR!” Britomart’s voice bellowed at something or someone…more than likely the aforementioned Hampton buggers again.

Gawain rubbed his forehead. As much as he wished for his boots (and a big glass of water for that matter), _Amor_ shoved him out the door and into that passage for the battling maid’s sake.

Duty could be a bear at times…..

 

****

 

[A Twelfth Turn of the Hourglass Earlier—Down the Hall]

Britomart tied the leather thongs on her saddlebag. Depression weighed her mind down. She considered her gear. Elation should have sent her soaring into the clouds. She’d proven herself against Britannia’s best knights. She’d won a sizable purse from Arthur. Best of all, she’d clued a certain cabbage headed oaf in on the fact that she wasn’t a bad companion for an evening. She dined at the King and Queen’s table. 

For a servant, such activities represented the pinnacle. For a woman, all the more so…..

Pity that her gender worked against her….

It was a pity that some ingrates slandered her last remaining rival, the mysterious warrior who had her dead to rights in the melee. That warrior, however, left herself open in order to let her have her moment with Sir Gawain. In such ways, Princess Josiane had proven herself a friend. Still those surrounding the sitting Count of Hampton sullied her name and virtue.

When she’d tried to return the favor both through offered testimony and repayment, Arthur had all but told Queen Guinevere and her to mind their own business. She couldn’t believe that he’d begrudge Josiane for besting him honestly. If it had been only exile, she was prepared to offer Josiane an audience with Rodor and Mithian. Still to watch the slandering courtiers strip her benefactor of everything, it was too much.

_I can’t let that go. I can’t!_ Britomart knew that Ywain and _Malodius_ had already departed. She knew the western road’s hazards and potential pitfalls. Mithian would lecture her up and down for traveling alone. Still she wouldn’t allow that injustice to stand. _If they’d see reason, it will only take a few heartbeats._ She gripped her sword hilt. With the other hand, she hefted the bag of gold. _Milady will have to understand!_ She slipped out the door and closed it behind herself. She determined to set things right.

Within a few steps and a corner rounded into the next passage, she saw the two men from Arthur’s throne room on the previous evening. She also noticed that they had several other armed men with them. She sucked in an anxious breath. She steeled herself and called out. “Sirrahs! SIRRAHS! A word!”

Rouge sniffed. “Well if it isn’t the wannabe Amazon? We need to be getting back to Southampton. Count Edgar looking forward to getting his property back.”

Britomart frowned. “If you want the sur coat and helmet, take them. The chain mail, blade and property are Princess Josiane’s.” She held up the bag of gold. “Once again, I’ll buy them off of you. Your lord will have the winner’s purse from the tournament. It’s not like he’ll be empty handed!”

Rouge looked to his companions. They argued back and forth for a few minutes. Then he turned back to her. “Maybe we might take the gold, her garbage and you, Red. We’ll find that tramp on the road. Then we’ll sell her and you to the slavers. How do you like them apples?”

She narrowed her eyes and drew her sword. “If you can take me.” She shook her head recognizing the six to one odds. “Me and my big mouth.”

“And she admits it!” a familiar and welcome voice gibed.

She rolled her eyes. _He heard that? Of course he did!_ “Are you here to make wisecracks or be serious, Sir Gawain? I have business with these men!”

“Yeah I heard.” Gawain stepped into the torchlight. He eyed the Hampton crowd. “Can’t believe you guys turned down that purse.” He shrugged. “Now can’t we be smart? Ol’ Eddie will be more than happy with that gold. Just take it from her. Let us have the lady’s stuff. Then we’ll all be on our way. Easy and neat. I…”

A dark skinned man swiped his blade through the air. His lunge whizzed through the air just missing Gawain’s chest.

“Yeah. I thought that’s how it was going to be.” Gawain cleared his throat. “Brit, maybe you might want to head back to your chamber? This is a fight.” He drew his sword.

“So I gathered from everyone waving their swords in the air, Oaf. If you want to get behind me, I’ll protect you and….” She wrinkled her nose. “What is that smell?” She glared down at his feet. “You actually came to fight without your boots?”

“You can thank me later,” Gawain retorted. “And beggars shouldn’t be choosers!” He crossed blades with Rouge. 

“I wasn’t asking you, Muttonhead!” She feinted getting her Middle Eastern opponent to overextend himself. She hit him between the eyes with her sword hilt knocking him out. “TALK! DON’T FIGHT!” She crossed blades with a blonde muscular man next.

“What? And let you get the last word? Not when you finally admit your problem,” he reminded her. He crossed blades with a dark skinned Mediterranean knight. After evading that opponent’s blade, he gashed the man’s arm. “Brit, you’ve got to learn….”

Mediterranean drew his blood with a true sword cut to Gawain’s arm.

“CONCENTRATE!!” She stabbed Mediterranean through the right shoulder and hit him with the sword hilt as well. Unfortunately she left her flank open.

Gawain flung a dagger into the space. It zipped past her not missing her ear by more than a few inches. Still it didn’t miss the chestnut maned knight sneaking up on her from behind. His throw embedded the blade into Chestnut’s chest and finishing that man off. “Watch your back!”

She parroted his words silently adding a terse roll of the eyes for effect. “Why don’t you use your feet, my Lord Windbag? The dank odor would clear out even the lowest bastions of Hell itself, I’m sure!”

“I took a bath three days ago! Picky! Picky! Picky!” Gawain knocked another knight out with just a left hook to the jaw. He turned toward Rouge who was picking himself off of the floor. He placed his sword’s point just under the man’s chin. “Uh uh, Mate. Drop the sword. Now!”

She knocked out her last opponent with another blow to the temples with her sword handle. “You do have a use? Will wonders never cease, Sir Gawain?”

Gawain coughed. “Oh yeah. I’m just full of surprises.” He smirked at her. “And you’re going to pay for my help, Brit. You’re going to pay big time.” Then he turned back to Rouge. “And speaking of paying, you’re going to give us the lady’s stuff.” 

Rouge scowled. “Don’t you two ever shut up?”

“NO!” the couple bellowed practically in his face.

“Now where are her possessions, you Cur? ANSWER ME!” she demanded. Menace flashed in her emerald eyes. 

“I’d…yeah…I’d say something, Mate.” Gawain winced and motioned over his shoulder. “She swings with that sword before thinking. Is it worth your life?”

Rouge scrunched his eyes closed. Annoyance caused the bile in his stomach to burn at its sides. “All right! If you’ll both SHUT UP, I’ll tell you! That witch’s manure is in our room. All of it! Count Edgar wanted it. Said it was really valuable. Now about that gold….”

“You get to live. Forget the gold.” Gawain stepped forward. His right foot stood not even six inches from Rouge’s face. “Which room is it? Any traps?”

Rouge gagged. His face turned a very distinct shade of green. His eyes crossed. “N…no traps.” He threw a metal key at her. “Just that. Just take a bath!”

Gawain scowled. He delivered a right cross knocking Rouge out. “Don’t give her any ideas!” He turned to find her unlocking the door in question. “Careful!”

“I do know a thing or two about opening doors, Cabbage Head,” she insisted.

“Might’ve fooled me, Brit,’ he retorted.

“A bar of soap’s location would fool you,” she fired back. She pushed open the door. There she spied a wooden burlap sack in the chamber’s far corner. She found a rolled up carpet with blue and white intricate designs woven into it. 

“Is that it? I figured she’d have more,” he presumed. He stalked into the area. His sword raised and prepared to cross with another blade. 

She looked into the bag. A smile spread across her face. “Everything she fought in is in here!” She closed and tied the bag shut. “Wonder what the carpet’s for?”

“Who knows? We better take it with us too.” He hefted the sack on his left shoulder. “Maybe if we go slow, we can get the carpet down between us?”

“It’ll have to work. We…” she started to agree.

Before the sentence could finish itself, he pressed his lips firmly against hers. The earlier pain and issues seemed far away. His heart skipped and leapt over unimaginable heights. As much as he would never admit it, he felt complete at that moment. Still he couldn’t help himself. When they came up for air, he added, “You’re welcome….Oh yeah. I also get to finally sleep in your bed.”

“Sleep in my bed?” She flushed. “Not unless you want to stand with me before King Rodor. I also expect something for my hand first.”

“I told you it was going to cost.” He patted her on the arm and looked her over. “And I’m getting my money’s worth.” Then he hefted the bag. 

She rolled her eyes knowing that he had her dead to rights. _I can’t believe he really wants to use me like a piece of meat!_ She picked an end of the carpet up. “Wish we had more help. Maybe I can drag this downstairs.”

As luck would have it, Camelot’s other knights finally rushed into the area. They surrounded the unconscious Hamptonians.

“Borsie! About bloody time! You missed the fun, Mate!” Gawain sassed.

“Some fun.” She shook her head. “Prince Bors, I offered to buy these items from them once again. Count Edgar’s knights attacked me. Sir Gawain and I defeated them.”

“I see.” Bors rubbed his chin. He knew Arthur had wanted Edgar to have the booty therein. As with Gawain, he felt that Josiane deserved better. Perhaps she would be exiled. Still she should be allowed to leave with her possessions. “King Arthur will want to know what happened.”

“Maybe if ol’ Arthur had stood up to these arses yesterday, we wouldn’t be doing this,” Gawain told him. He shook his head. “Lot of that garbage happening lately.”

Bors sighed. He anticipated that his father would agree with Gawain on that and many other points. “Still….”

“Still what? We beat ‘em. We get that Princess’ stuff. We give her stuff back. I’ll deal with whatever happens in the process,” he sniffed. “Come on. Help us get that carpet downstairs.”

Bors nodded. “King Arthur and the council will not be happy about this. You do have a point though. Britomart, take the bag. Gawain, you lift with me.” He lifted the rug with his older colleague. He sniffed the air. “First though we’re stopping at your chambers. You’re getting your boots.” He cleared his throat. “Sir William, you and the others watch these knights. The King and Queen will want to deal with them.”

Sir William, a pimply faced skinny teenager of barely sixteen, nodded but said little. He kept a close eye on the fallen knights.

“Told you so,” she insinuated about Bors’ complaint toward Gawain’s feet.

“Everyone’s a critic.” He rolled his eyes as they headed into the passage. “While we’re going there, I’m grabbing some stuff.”

“The guest room will be good for you,” she noted.

“Yeah right. Just keep thinking that,” he insisted with a knowing smirk. Seemingly his mouth sprouted canary feathers in the process from its sides.

“You two! Honestly!” Bors huffed. 

“That’s us. And don’t forget it either, Kid,” Gawain sassed. He led the younger knight toward his chambers.

She shook her head. _That oaf!_ Still, as much as she complained, her heart was doing flip flops. Even if she would never admit it, she was glad he was going with her and everyone else….

…that he was coming home with her….

It could be worse. He’s an incorrigible man child but he cares at least! She narrowed her eyes at the fallen Hamptonians. Then she saw the young boys in Camelot armor watching those prisoners. _Fortuna_ , it seemed had favored her with her own First Knight.

The couple that fights together, stays together……


	6. Gaius Attempts to Stop Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin packs up his things. He's assessing things. Kilgarrah urges him onward and yet reminds him of his responsibilities. As Merlin leaves, Gaius finds him. Gaius tries to stop him from going to Nemeth.

Chapter 6 [Merlin’s Bedchamber—A Third of the Hourglass Earlier]

Merlin rushed through the castle. He bobbed and wove his way through the other castellans. Excitement lent bounce to his steps. Fear pushed him onward. Paranoia threatened potential interference from Arthur, Gaius or any number of potential interlopers. He missed a few of his cohorts by mere inches.

The passersby narrowed their eyes. They sighed and shook their heads. From their time at Gossip’s tavern, they’d sat with Rumor hearing her half-truths and slander. They had little time for the strange peasant boy who fancied himself a noble and royal adviser. Unlike Merlin, they knew their places. Some did shake their heads. Others waved and gave him a smile. One person wondered where the fire was.

Merlin offered appropriate replies albeit brief in length. He was on _Amor’s_ business now. Destiny moved her mission for him ever so slightly. He could protect Arthur still. He would keep a careful eye on the King as always…..

Just now from Whitgate and as Prince.

And perhaps Hubris was Arthur’s greatest enemy?

_What’s going on with you, Arthur?_ Merlin frowned. He looked down the hall. Instinct and Habit guided his eye up the stairwell’s twists both down toward the Physicians’ Chambers and up toward the royal compartments. _Why can’t things be as they were? Then again, can they?_ He shook Comfort’s temptations from his shoulders much as a breeze might the snow from a branch. He opened his door. _Here goes. Last packing._

_Such a performance, Merlin! One might think you were onto something,_ Kilgarrah supposed.

_I am._ Merlin smiled. _It’s time!_

_Time? Time for what, Young Warlock? Don’t tell me the Young Pendragon has his pants in knots again? He needs direction not a maid or babysitter. You have more pressing needs. If you were to stay, you’d need to be Chief Advisor not some mere stable boy,_ the Great Dragon presumed. _Still who will watch for him if you do not?_

_I’ll still watch. I can do more as Nemeth’s Crown Prince for Arthur and Britannia than here. Gwen can and should be his advisor. Hopefully Prince Bors can keep him grounded. These new knights are greener than my new sur coat. Arthur though needs to stand as a King. That means domestic duties as well as the military pursuits,_ Merlin pointed out. He took out his burlap sack and set it on the bed. He folded his clothes and set them into the bag. He reached under the bed. As in his old room, he moved a couple of floor boards. With an additional look to make sure the coast was clear, he slipped his _grimoire_ and wand between the clothes insuring that they’d be concealed from view. He grabbed his old worn wooden cup.

_I believe Mithian has plenty of goblets for you to use, Merlin. Perhaps you might ask Gaius for his library as well?_ Kilgarrah snarked.

Merlin rolled his eyes. _Mother gave me that cup before I left Ealdor to come here. If we forget where we come from, we can’t govern. No morals, no tradition, no backbone._ He considered a medical text. _I should return this to Gaius._

_Will he need it? Or will that be the true Idiot for the Boy King’s next tantrum? He does need his Crap Boy, doesn’t he?_ the Great Dragon jabbed.

_That’s not amusing, Kilgarrah._ Merlin frowned. He finished a look around the area. His eyes couldn’t see anything left of his stay in that area save the bag and medical text of course. He pushed the door shut. His eyes glowed. _“Fillte!”_

On command, the blankets and sheets came away from their places. They folded themselves neatly. Then they rested in a pile much as he had found them upon arrival.

_Ah! Service of magic. Whatever would Gaius say, Merlin?_ Kilgarrah jabbed.

_I’m in a hurry. Deal with it. Arthur’s not going to get a chance to keep me here,_ Merlin pointed out. He smirked. _You do want dragon lords and ladies at some point. Don’t you?_

_I suppose. I am *painfully* aware of your needs, Merlin, as well as Mithian’s. They scream out like some crazed animals. There is a purpose in this. I have to remind myself,_ Kilgarrah pointed out.

_There is. After all someone’s got to tell you what to do,_ Merlin counter-jabbed with a ‘gotcha’ smirk added for good measure. _Speaking of which, doesn’t the Dragon Lord need dragons to command?_

_You have two of us to harass now, Merlin. Your point?_ Kilgarrah replied.

_Maybe you might talk to Aithusa once in a while? Other than that, maybe I could remind you of how nature works?_ Merlin noted. He raised an eyebrow. His smirk grew wider by the heartbeat.

Kilgarrah cleared his throat. _I am well aware of such matters, Merlin. I most certainly do not need you to remind me. Hrumph!_ With that, he went silent.

“He’s aware of such matters. So he says.” Merlin coughed to himself. He ran his hand across the mattress. Then he slung the bag over his shoulder and opened the door. He picked up the book with the other hand. “That’s done. So much for this! Farewell, Camelot.” He took a step over the threshold.

Gaius watched him in the passage. “Merlin? Whatever are you up to?” He leaned on his walking staff with greater emphasis. His gait seemed more labored than ever. “Off again?”

Merlin wanted to tell him the truth. Really he did. And he would’ve…if he thought Gaius would approve. He knew of course that the elderly physician wouldn’t. “King Rodor and Princess Mithian have a big deal coming up. They asked me to tend their garden.”

“Their garden?” Gaius coughed. Sarcasm dripped from the dry hacks. “I’m sure the garden is vital at this time of year. And this big deal. You have a role in it?” His eyes peered into the younger man’s.

“Not really,” Merlin lied. He peered into the room again. His eyes seeking any place else to look but the elder man’s face.

The Eyebrow raised intruding well into his hairline. Realization curled his lip into a frown. “Merlin, what are you doing? You realize the situation you’re creating? When will you stop?”

“Gaius, don’t start now. I know what I’m doing! And why is it a situation? Because Arthur wouldn’t knight me last year! ” Merlin protested. “I’m not the boy who’s satisfied with just being your apprentice and Arthur’s practice dummy anymore.” He looked around again knowing full well how voices carried against the stone walls. He cleared his throat. “If other royals can appreciate me better well then good for them.”

“Appreciate? Merlin, Arthur and Gwen need you here!” Gaius grabbed onto Merlin’s sleeve. “Perhaps I can’t tell Arthur of what you’re doing directly. Still I can draw attention to you. There are things I have to do for your own good.”

“You mean for your own good, Gaius, don’t you?” Merlin groused. The words caught in his throat. They soured his mouth. “Gaius, look. I’m sorry. You just have to understand.”

“I don’t. Merlin, I will call for someone if you don’t stop this,” Gaius insisted. 

“Stop what? Gaius, what’s wrong?” Isolde asked. She considered the two men standing in front of herself.

“Merlin?” Tristan looked into his friend’s eyes. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Merlin sighed. “Gaius doesn’t approve of my gardening.”

“Gardening indeed!” Gaius huffed. “And now you’re lying as well?”

“Gaius, please stop.” She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Merlin’s coming with us. Queen Guinevere has authorized his departure. King Arthur has approved it.”

“Then I suppose he’ll be returning at some point?” Gaius inquired. A sharp point jabbed at the two knights.

“Considering the manure patch that’s waiting for him? I wouldn’t. Look. You can either walk out with us pleasantly or watch as we leave. Those are your options,” Tristan informed the old man. 

“Then I suppose there’s nothing left to be said.” Gaius slumped his shoulders. Defeat weighed down on him. He’d wanted to bridge the two sides and keep Merlin between them. He tried to place Merlin firmly in the court. He desired to have Merlin take over as Court Physician in the near future. At that point, he had no doubt Gwen would maneuver Arthur into freeing Merlin much as Uther had done for him years before. Then Merlin would finally have his place on the royal council and perhaps as a knight.

Alas Rodor and Mithian had made their move first. They’d lured Merlin away with their siren song. They’d opened his ears to the goddess and the Old Religion. Selfishness prompted them to fill Merlin’s head with grand tales and promises. A royal marriage for Merlin was part of that.

Gaius stewed. While he wanted his former charge to be happy, he still maintained it was to be on his (the court and Arthur’s terms).

“If you need anything, Gaius….” Merlin started to say. He reached out to embrace Gaius.

Gaius returned the embrace. While he didn’t agree with the decision, he wouldn’t deny Merlin that last farewell. History and Past demanded as much. Love pressed for that as well.

“Come, Merlin. It’s time,” Isolde bade. “Josiane’s waiting and so’s the road.”

Merlin gazed around himself one last time. His eyes took in every nook and cranny. For a few heartbeats, he could almost see himself again as the wide eyed boy excited to be there. He wondered how he’d survived that first year under Uther’s tyranny and policies. He’d held off threats from all sides to the court and kingdom. Experience had seasoned mind and outlook.

Still Priorities tore at him. Loyalty and Friendship tried to hold him right in that place. Amor and Potential drew him toward Nemeth and his Princess. Veritas revealed his true self—Sorcerer, Druid Supreme and Dragon Lord. Future beckoned toward Crown Prince and Husband.

A period for growth just like the one awaiting him then and there. Transition rendered its decision.

He nodded to himself. His lungs rendered a deep refreshing breath. Purpose guided his first step and another and another still. Step by step he kept taking foot in front of foot. He walked through the arch and down the passage.

Isolde glanced at Gaius. Then she motioned to Tristan. “Let’s go. I’m ready to get out of here.”

“You and me both,” Tristan concurred. He shook his head at the castle’s lack of ambiance. Then he followed the others into the passage.

And the longer road took on yet another turn…..


	7. Contentious Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Merlin and the others prepare to leave, two sentry knights take exception to their presence. This sets off another face off with consequences where Arthur's concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the garbage really hits the fan. Brace yourselves!

Chapter 7 [Courtyard—In Front of Citadel’s Front Stairs]

Josiane sat on the granite stairs leading back into the citadel. Anxiety ate at her. Conspicuousness urged her eyes this way and that. She remained on guard even as she tried to relax. Occasionally her eyes would drift toward the horses tied at their posts to her left. She tapped her fingers. She looked toward the sky. _What will happen next? What can I do? Thanks for my new companions._

Passersby eyed her with various reactions. Pity moved some to offer a piece of bread or cheese. Scorn slapped at her from nobles or the knight who happened to be walking by. Regret burdened more than a few courtiers. They tried to lean close and offer a few coins to ease her journey.

Still she declined every offer. Given the conditions of her exile, Generosity threatened those kind souls. She would smile, thank them and offer to pray on their behalf. Then she sent them on their way. Occasionally she’d shoot the guard knights a look.

Sir Hector and Sir Stuart shook their heads in dismissal. They kept their eyes focused on the courtyard. Still, much as she did with everything else, they watched her. The two young knights fought back the desire to move her along. Still they remained under the King’s orders. They waited until noon. If the exile remained at that point then she’d be shown the drawbridge or find herself fitted for the noose.

_Despite the sentence, my companions insist on helping me. While the others are leaving, Merlin leaves himself open for King Arthur’s displeasure._ She sighed. _Then again he probably doesn’t care at this point. He cares more about doing the right thing than the penalty or reward._ She smiled. _Boeve, you’d like him. He’s so much like you. I miss you, my Love._

Whisper whinnied and poked at her arm with his snout.

“I know you care too. Thank you, my Friend.” She rubbed his snout and patted it. Then she smiled at the other three horses as well. She heard the doors open and turned. 

Merlin descended the stairs with a bag over his shoulder. Disappointment burdened his heart and watered in his eyes. He glanced back toward the open door. Once more he sought out Closure’s grace.

Gaius exhaled heavily. The Eyebrow didn’t bother to raise itself as it might do in other cases. His eyes watered. Then he abruptly turned back inside. With efforted motions hampered by Age, he limped into the castle proper and was gone from sight.

“Are you all right, Merlin? Who was that man?” she inquired.

Merlin shrugged. “He’s Gaius, the Court Physician. He was my mentor and taught me to survive at court. He’s a second father to me.” He glanced back toward the door again. “He doesn’t agree with my choice.”

She nodded. “Sometimes those are the most difficult burdens to bear. Between the King and him, I can see why your heart is troubled. I wish I could do more.”

He smiled. “Just your friendship and kindness are great. Thanks.” He leaned close. “When we get to the woods, I have some things for you.”

She tensed. “Merlin! You can’t!”

“Shh! It’ll be all right.” He shrugged almost playfully daring someone to contradict his point. He walked over to Windchaser and placed his bag in the saddlebag. Then he tied that pouch shut. “That’ll secure it for the journey.”

Hearing the Warlock say it, Hector cleared his throat. “Merlin, you do know King Arthur’s wishes for the woman? She is exiled!”

“So I’ve heard,” Merlin retorted. His eyes met the young knight’s firmly. “She’s been invited by the others to Nemeth. I’ve been invited by King Rodor and Princess Mithian there as well. Guess we are riding together after all?”

“You should wait for the morrow. Let her suffer the sentence, Crap Boy,” Stuart scoffed.

“How about you stay at your post? I’ll determine when I leave,” Merlin responded with a fair amount of iron in his tone. “At least Josiane knows her place. She’s better off not being here.”

“Seems the King feels the same about you,” Hector informed him. “I heard all about you. Merlin, bastard peasant from Mercia. He walks through the palace feeling like a noble. He tells the King what to do. He plays knight. He thinks himself a diplomat. At least now you have your place. Seems even the Queen’s quick to lend you out like some churl. Maybe the Spoiled Queen Wannabe will hunt you like the dog you are. She certainly carries herself like some….”

“Like some what?” Tristan demanded. His eyes flared fire and daggers into the guard’s. “Go on. Finish it.”

“I’d say the same.” Isolde placed her hand firmly on Merlin’s shoulder. She shook her head and motioned toward Josiane.

Merlin glared at the impudent knights. He wanted to teach them a much deserved lesson. Still he understood that the lesson in itself would bring more trouble than it was worth. 

“Put him in his place! King knows he’s an idiot,” Hector snapped at her. “You ain’t no knight, Sweet Thing.”

“Oh? And you propose to prove that?” Isolde raised an eyebrow. Amusement and Annoyance sparked in concert in her eyes. Almost like a cat might regard a mouse, she smirked. “Perhaps if she had her blade, you’d challenge Princess Josiane to a duel? She was holding back so as not to kill any of you, Boy. Perhaps you should tell Britomart as much? She’ll give the proper reply.”

“That is if Gawain doesn’t first.” Sarcasm and Disdain accented Tristan’s tone. He coughed. “You both barely seem able enough to cut yourselves with a razor much less any of us with those swords. Just hold up the sides of the door and earn your meat already. That is if you have teeth to chew with? I don’t have time for such drivel.” He rolled his eyes and stomped down the stairs. “Wish Arthur and Guinevere would get out here. These _children_ are getting on my nerves.”

“They aren’t worth it. They seek a fight to make trouble. Why give it to them?” Isolde supposed. 

“My Friends, I should go now. Your help goads them. I….” Josiane offered.

Merlin looked at Tristan and then Isolde. Unanimity won the debate (as if there was any doubt?) “They can deal with it, Princess. You have until Noon. We’ll leave before then.”

“Together,” Isolde concurred with a nod.

“Bloody straight!” Tristan affirmed. He marched down the stairs with two cloth sacks; one over each shoulder. He tied one apiece onto each of their horses. “There now!” he baited the guards. “You do see we are leaving?” He snorted. “Without us, you’d still be in the dungeon or perhaps swinging from a noose by now. Remember that.”

“Not likely,” Hector spat. Denial soured his reply not allowing him to see Tristan’s point.

“Not likely what?” Arthur asked. He accompanied Gwen out the door and onto the stairs. He squinted into the early morning sky. “It does seem like an opportune day to travel, I’d say.”

“We brought you this food for your journey,” Gwen told them. She handed Isolde a large wicker basket. 

“We appreciate your generosity. Thank you.” Isolde bowed before the two royals. “Perhaps though you might wish to teach your guards some manners? They insulted Merlin and slandered Princess Mithian.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Arthur turned to his knights. “Sir Hector? Sir Stewart? What was said?”

“Sire…we…” Hector sputtered.

“They called Princess Mithian the ‘Queen Wannabe’. They said she’d hunt me like the dog I am,” Merlin informed them.

“Really?” Gwen cleared her throat. She spun on her heel to face the two guards. Scorn flared at them. “We will speak of this _later_.” A dark look cowed those two. 

“Perhaps we’ve had our issues. Still King Rodor and I do want peace,” Arthur noted. “I apologize for these knights’ attitude. I’ll deal with them.” Before there could be any reply, he noticed Josiane sitting next to Merlin. “Her? What is she doing there? She’s to leave alone! You can’t help her!”

“She is not to have any help from Camelot. We’re taking her to Whitgate and out of the kingdom,” Tristan pointed out. 

“Merlin, you are not to help….” Arthur started to order. Then he saw Bors and Gawain carrying the carpet out of the door. “What is that? That’s supposed to go to Southampton! Edgar has a claim on that.”

“Actually, Arthur, the helmet and sur coat are Eddie’s. This stuff’s going back to Josie. Deal with it,” Gawain retorted; Challenge doused every syllable of that response. “Sorry, Gwen.” He shrugged.

“Queen Guinevere, forgive if I don’t curtsey.” Britomart bowed as much as her burden, two sacks would allow. She winced knowing that Gawain’s mouth could very well upset everything (again). She hustled down the stairs. “I believe these, my Friend, are yours?” She presented the bag on her right shoulder to Josiane.

“Bors, put that back in the castle! They’re stealing it! I am ordering you!” Arthur barked.

Bors set his end down shy of the threshold. “King Arthur, I am still in the castle passage. Therefore I have not carried it out. Still the First Knight did order me to help him to bear it to the door. Justice would allow her to bear it and her possessions with her.” Discomfort paled his face. “According to Sir Gawain and the maid, Britomart, Princess Josiane brought these items with her from the East. The helmet and sur coat were left upstairs for you to send to Count Edgar as they are indeed his.”

“Count Edgar’s men say different!” Arthur disagreed.

“They lie!” Josiane spat. Indignation dripped from her words. Her eyes narrowed. Her lip curled like a coiled serpent. “You allow them to slander the most loyal of knights! You steal from those seeking your grace! What happened to the accounts, King Arthur? Where is that fair King that supposedly believes in equality?”

“I kept you away from Edgar’s men. Be grateful for that,” Arthur informed her.

“They planned to ambush her in the woods, King Arthur,” Britomart interjected. “I offered to buy those items this morning as I did before your court yesterday. That rouge haired prat thought he’d have a couple of slave girls for the scoundrels’ pleasure! Sir Gawain and I certainly taught them a much needed lesson.”

Josiane bowed her head. “This is beyond belief. I cannot believe…I….” She shuddered while clutching her middle. Tears streaked her cheeks.

“They’re upstairs with the kids. You can ask ‘em if they’re awake. What is wrong with you? You’re siding with them against us? Really?” Gawain added.

“They made a case before my court. I rendered a verdict. In Camelot, that is law,” Arthur reminded them all.

“Arthur, please. Perhaps a little compassion? Britomart did offer to redeem these items. If they did threaten her, she and Gawain would have the right to defend themselves,” Gwen interceded.

“Guinevere, I understand your point. Still Count Edgar is one of my greatest nobles. Father trusted him implicitly. I can’t just go off of friendship,” Arthur disagreed.

“Service counts more than hot air, Your Kingliness,” Gawain disagreed. “I can see where this is going. If I stay any longer, I’m going to hurl all over those shiny boots of yours.” He removed his belt. Then he dropped it and the scabbard on the stairs at Arthur’s feet. “Those are yours.” He took off the sur coat and chain mail and heaped them on top of the belt. “Those are yours. You want to be a tight arse. Fine! You want to step on us? Step on your own order! Why not? You do it to the rest of us!”

“Gawain, shut up. If you know what’s good for you….” Arthur started.

“Arthur.” Gwen shook her head. “Please don’t. Don’t drive him or Merlin away. Please!” She grabbed onto him. “They’ve made their case! Think before….”

“He’s already done that, Gwen. He let Big Red spit on my father! He does the same thing for Josie’s guy. He would’ve let Brit and Josie get dragged off to be sold like cows! And look at Merlin! We could be here all day talking about him,” Gawain pressed on. He turned to Arthur. “What’s wrong with you? We’re supposed to be your mates! We’d go into Hell for you! You care about some bloated blowhard more than us? And if something had happened to Brit or Merlin, you’d feel some heat. Trust me on that one, Princess. So tell me, Arthur. Tell me what’s good for me! Go ahead.” He folded his arms. “I’m waiting.”

Arthur grabbed the armor and gear from the stones. “I’d never force you to stay against your will, Gawain. If you want to go, go ahead. I’ll miss your service. Just go. Take the woman with you and be gone. Sir Tristan and Lady Isolde, I am sorry. Merlin, good luck with that task. Don’t screw it up.”

“I’m sure he won’t, King Arthur,” Britomart informed him. She offered one more bow before heading for the stables. “Gawain! Let’s go! You’re riding with me!”

“I’m what? Hey! I’m not done with….” Gawain protested.

“NOW!” Britomart snapped.

Gawain sighed. “Guess that’s my call. Now she’s getting a swelled head and all. Gwen, sorry. I appreciate everything. Wish it had been better recently. Take care.”

Gwen nodded. “You too. Be safe. Take care of her and you both, Gawain. She’s good for you.”

“Don’t give her any ideas.” Gawain grabbed his own bag from where Britomart had left it. “Too bad Arthur. It was good for most of the time. Just think about what you said in that old castle when Morgause and Morgana were in here. You talked so grandly about things. Even then you had your double standard where Merlin’s concerned.” He offered a curt bow. Then he stormed away toward the stables.

“Arthur and Gwen, thanks for everything. I appreciate the last ten years. We both gave and took from each other. Maybe we can learn from this and grow beyond it? Next we see each other, there’ll be bigger and better things,” Merlin concluded. While he tried to sound positive, he in truth was offering a coded good bye. He knew this was it. Despite Mithian’s pretext, he was leaving for good. 

“Aye, Merlin. There’ll be bigger things…in the stables. Enjoy playing in the dirt,” Arthur jabbed failing to grasp the other’s meaning. He wanted to make it a light joke. Still Impatience soured the tone.

Gwen shook her head. She grabbed onto Merlin. “You take care, Merlin. We’ll see you in a couple of weeks. Keep your wits about you now. Watch out for King Rodor and Princess Mithian.”

“I will with everything I have. As I do here for Arthur and you.” Merlin returned the embrace. “Stay well. Try to drill some sense into the Prat’s thick skull.”

“I will.” Seeing Arthur’s glare darken and Josiane tense, she urged, “You’d best go. Safe travels.”

Merlin nodded. He hefted the carpet. “Princess, maybe we can get this hooked onto your horse’s saddle?”

“Forgive me, Merlin. I should have noticed,” Josiane apologized. She helped him carry the carpet down the stairs. She attached it to the back of Whisper’s saddle next to the burlap sack of goods. “We’re set now?”

“We are.” Merlin mounted Windchaser. He took one last look at Arthur and Gwen. His eyes met Gaius’ who lingered just inside the door. Lament and Disappointment dampened the moment. No matter what, he didn’t want it to end like that. 

“Follow us,” Tristan directed as he and Isolde rode their horses toward the lower town.

“That is our cue, Merlin,” Josiane suggested. Needing no further impetus, she urged Whisper in that direction.

_Our cue. Time for transitions!_ Merlin saw Britomart riding with Gawain on her admittedly overpacked horse. There’s the cue. He spurred Windchaser in pursuit of the others disappearing from the courtyard and toward the drawbridge.

Gwen sighed. She wiped a stray tear from her eye. “There they go. It’ll never be the same now.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. He wondered if she’d gone daft or something. “Gwen, we’ll bring Merlin back in two weeks! He’ll be back to doing stables again.” He raised his eyebrow. “Are you all right? You’re carrying on for no reason.”

She shook her head. “No I guess you’re right. There’s no reason. Why would there be?” She turned and headed back into the castle.

Arthur exchanged looks with Prince Bors. Then he stalked off in his wife’s wake. He could never figure Gwen out when she got like that…..


	8. Campsite Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now safely across the Severn, Merlin and the companions relax in their campsite. Connections are discovered and discussed. And Merlin gets a surprise.

Conclusion 

That day flew by. _Sol_ climbed overhead racing against the puffy clouds through their blue backdrop. The air, while still cool, did not bear the stiff breeze. The road had dried from the previous week’s dry conditions allowing the horses’ hooves to gallop quickly over it propelling the party quickly away from Camelot.

The triple goddess, it seemed, provided the perfect conditions for their journey….

 

****

 

[Sunset—Just Across the River Severn and into Gedref]

Merlin reclined against an august oak tree. Now across the Severn’s foaming torrent from Winter’s melted snow, he could relax. Safety seemed more prevalent on that side of the river. While the laws were still technically on the books, here he could cast a spell and not worry about his head. He didn’t have to pretend about his feelings (although it wasn’t official yet). And he could wash the manure off of his hands and it would stay off. He inhaled a relaxed breath and twiddled his fingers. For once having nothing to think or worry about proved a blessing. 

His eyes drifted all around. Sunset streaked crimsons, yellows and oranges across the sky. A few rabbits hopped across the grass before skittering back into the brush. Ywain patrolled the camp’s western edge. Galahad took the eastern rounds. Gawain spoke with Britomart out of his hearing. They’d talk, then argue, settle back into discussion and resume that cycle for a while longer. Josiane kneeled with her head resting against the ground. She faced in a southeastern direction and chanted.

_Never seen anything like that,_ he noted to himself. The practice added to the mysteries surrounding their new ally. Still, given the hardships she’d dealt with and her moral virtues, he’d allow her that space. _It takes all kinds to make a world. I wonder what Sir Boeve was like?_

_He was a tremendous warrior and an honorable companion, Merlin, Malodius_ noted. _How is it that you know his name? You never met. He never did come to Camelot._

_Princess Josiane loved him. Apparently Count Edgar of Hampton had something to do with it,_ Merlin explained. He turned to see the lion standing just to his right. 

_Malodius_ growled. _You might pay better attention to your surroundings, Merlin. While we are secure, someone could cross the river unwarranted._ As he advised that, he turned his gaze toward their guest. His tail twitched as he recognized her. _It is the Princess! How did I not sense her aura in Camelot?_

_Now who’s slipping?_ Merlin jabbed.

_Sarcasm ill suits you, Merlin. Now it makes sense. She is no mere Princess. Much like ours, Josiane led by example. She fought beside Sir Boeve claiming more than her share of Glory’s spoils in several battles. I saved her life. Sadly she is not telepathic. I would like to speak with her, Malodius_ realized.

_Maybe I can bear her a message?_ Merlin suggested.

_She cannot know I can speak like this. Still I would remain close to her. Much as with your father, I respect Sir Boeve. I trusted him. Your instincts about Princess Josiane are correct, Merlin. I appreciate your service to her._

Merlin stroked his friend’s mane. _She’s done nothing but be a good person. I don’t know what Edgar of Hampton’s deal is. He sounds like a power hungry prat._

_That one is trouble, Merlin. Yes he usurped Sir Boeve’s place. It bothers me that he was able to have his way with Arthur Pendragon so easily._ Seeing Josiane end her prayers and raise her forehead from the ground, he requested, _Perhaps you might let her know? I’d walk up to her but…._

_I get it._ Merlin chuckled at the lion’s seeming double standard. Still, rather than pursue it, he walked over to her. “Feeling fulfilled? Sorry. I don’t mean to pry but….”

“It’s no trouble, Merlin. I was speaking to my god much as you speak to your goddess. I gave thanks for our most fortunate outcome in Camelot. May we have more fortune and….” She stopped short. Her eyes went wide. A smile formed on her face. Recognition turned to Joy in the span of a heartbeat. “ _Malodius?_ Is it him?”

“It is. He serves Nemeth. How do you know him?” Merlin pointed out.

“It was during a battle with Saxon raiders off of the Hampton coast. The hordes came from their hulking vessels. Boeve and I fought bravely along with his knights. We held our own. Still the Saxons did not stop coming. We thought ourselves lost. Then a mysterious fog blew up off the sea. We knew not from where it came. He leapt from that fog. He swiped with his paws, battered with his bulk and bit with his teeth. We rallied and drove the savages back into the sea.” She sighed. “I cannot believe this! Come! Come!” She rushed over. “ _Malodius!_ This is truly my god’s grace!” She scratched behind the lion’s ears.

_Malodius_ purred and rubbed up against her arm.

“I wish Boeve could be here. He’d want to thank you himself for your wonderful service.” Lament creased her face prompting a frown from her. “Perhaps he wished for you to be here?”

Stranger things have happened, Merlin mused to himself. Then he cleared his throat. “You know. Sometimes it just takes one thing, Princess. One thing, one person or one event can set bigger things in motion. Wait until you meet Princess Mithian. I…well…I…” He sucked in a deep breath. “Sorry. This was about Sir Boeve, _Malodius_ and you.”

She shook her head. “No, Merlin. It’s about love and special bonds. Love can mean friendship too. I could tell that Arthur Pendragon had you under his thumb. You suffered. Count Edgar’s jackals stole everything from me. I was suffering. We talked. You encouraged me. Our friends set matters right. Events propelled us to this point. In this simple woodland clearing, we have friends, food and soft ground on which to rest. I wish we could have our beloveds here. Tomorrow I look forward to seeing you reunited with your Princess.”

_She has a point, Merlin. So do you. Such depth of insight. I am impressed, Malodius_ complimented.

_I do have my moments._ Merlin sniffed the air. “I thought Gwen had Audrey make capon for us?”

“It was some sort of roasted bird. I don’t know….” She raised an eyebrow. “That is venison with a curious mix of spice. I have never smelled such a scent.” She puzzled over that.

Merlin’s mouth watered. “I have.” He exhaled. _Amor_ surged in his heart. He surveyed their surroundings.

“Merlin? What?” she asked. She heard a twang like a bow string being released close by. “Get down!”

“What…I??” He hit the turf. He heard something strike the tree above where his head had been. _Why didn’t you duck?_ he lectured _Malodius_.

_Because there was no threat, Merlin. Look up,_ the lion assured him.

_Look up?_ He glanced up to find a shaft tipped with emerald feather tufts embedded in the bark. Hanging from the end, a particular sprig hung on a string straight down.

“Mistletoe? What? Why? It isn’t your Solstice festival!” Josiane wondered.

“No it isn’t. Still someone wants me to remember it,” he informed her. _And I remember it. That night has kept me alive for the past three months. Please. Mithian, I….._

_As I do, my Prince._ Mithian emerged from the brush. She wore her white riding top and dark breeches. Mischief spread her smirk and sparkled in her eyes. “I knew you’d recognize the venison’s scent.” She hustled over to him. Without another word, she grabbed onto him.

He embraced her. He felt her softness against himself. Her aura and presence cleansed Doubt’s static from him. Unlike in Camelot, he didn’t have to hold back. He didn’t have to pretend. He didn’t have to care. He mashed his lips down on top of hers. Much as with a dried out plant in a desert, they sought out their oasis…their relief in that pool….

And she frankly wasn’t going to stop him. She squeezed him ever tighter getting every bit of his essence around herself. She savored the idea of this…having him there rather than in Camelot. Granted they had the Link and that dreamscape. Still this was special and amazing and everything else for that matter. She touched foreheads with him. “At last, Merlin. We are free.”

“Free at last.” Merlin brushed his lips across her forehead. He gazed into her eyes. “I love you, my Princess.”

“I love you, my Prince.” Mithian’s eyes glittered in _Luna’s_ rising light. She squeezed his right hand. “And now we have forever.”

“Forever.” He savored five more heartbeats of this. He wanted to simply stare into those eyes. He felt fulfilled. Still the world waited for no one. “We do have a guest.”

“So Britomart tells me.” Mithian rubbed his arm. Then she considered Princess Josiane. “Welcome to Nemeth! I’m Princess Mithian, daughter to Rodor, King of Nemeth and our host. It is my pleasure to offer you safe passage and a meal tonight.” She extended her hand. “And you are Princess Josiane? I have heard of your skill in the melee.”

“You are too kind, my Lady. I am but an exile. Still I am glad to be with such friends! I cannot compliment your retinue enough, Princess,” Josiane told her. “And to see _Malodius_ again after so long!”

_She, Sir Boeve and I fought alongside each other just south of Hampton, Princess, the lion clarified. She was a most worthy ally to share the battlefield with, Malodius_ clarified.

_I shall make note of that._ Mithian nodded. “He is certainly a wonderful companion and friend. I’m sure you will be the same for us. Come now. Let’s leave concerns behind for tonight. The venison awaits us. I have brought plenty in honor of a certain Prince’s homecoming.” She pecked him on the cheek. “Now follow us.” She took Merlin by the hand and led him back toward the main camp. “You too, _Malodius_.”

_As Princess Josiane said, to have such a treat with friends is a fine thing,_ the lion concurred.

“I’ll be happy to serve you both since I’m….” Merlin started.

Britomart glared at the Warlock. “You will not!” She turned to the rest of the company. “Everyone! Our Prince and Princess!”

Ywain, Galahad and Britomart kneeled. 

“Wow.” Gawain grinned. He raised his goblet. “To a deserving guy! Here’s to the last crap bin! Merlin, you’re a Prince! Maybe now you’ll loosen up?”

Merlin sighed and raised his goblet. _It is Gawain._

_Yes it is._ Mithian snorted. “Our friends.” She sat down beside her Prince. Each of them received a plate with finely roasted venison and a mashed starchy orange side dish. “Thank you all for seeing us together. Thank you for seeing our newest friend to our side. And thank you….for escorting my heart back to our fair land.”

“It is our pleasure and duty, Princess. Merlin is a most worthy ally,” Ywain praised.

“HUZZAH! HUZZAH!” the group chorused.

And with that, the most pleasant vibes soaked that clearing. Vibes to be cherished and saved by all indeed. Transitions, even if not announced in true intent to the world, were well underway. Flora’s project could flower into so much more.

So much more indeed…..

 

THE END (for now)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well things keep progressing. Garden will be appearing shortly. Thanks for reading!


End file.
